Discovered
by Hope You Will Always Stay
Summary: Sweden and Finland found America first when he was no more than a baby nation. After the Nordics raised him for years, their little family is split apart when the Englishmen come to the New World. Now, in the present, Alfred begins to remember things about the Nordics and his youth before England.
1. Prologue

**_Prologue_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

**_A/N: I got this idea from the Headcanon that Finland and Sweden found America first. Of course, I love the Nordics and America, so I had to run with this. Keep in mind this will probably not be historically accurate, at all. It's a Headcanon of mine that Nations take after the ones who originally found them (America is tall and has glasses like Sweden, he always smiles like Finland, and so on)._**

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When Finland first saw the boy peeking out through the bushed with bright blue eyes, _Sweden's _eyes, he nearly had a heart attack. He felt the aurora that surrounded the boy, that feeling that only his kind had, and knew then the child was a nation. Probably the personification of the land he stood on. Of course, as Finland and the other Nordics were really the first adult nations to come to this land, they were responsible for him. Well, that's how Finland saw it anyway.

When the young, blonde boy made his next appearance, Sweden was with him. He came tumbling out of the woods, seemingly distracted, but froze in him place when he saw the two nations. Sweden had froze as well, looking at the boy in shock. Well, Finland knew he was shocked because of all the years they had spent together. To anyone else he was as stoic as always. Finland couldn't blame the bigger man for being shocked, he was too at first.

The young nation had bright blonde hair, gold almost, with a little piece that stuck up in the front. It was the same color as Finland's. His large eyes were bright and blue and they looked far too much like Denmark's and Sweden's. The little boy looked to be no older than two years, wearing noting but what looked to be rags. The two nations didn't realize they were staring at the child nation until they saw him shrink back in fear.

"N', d'n't cry." Sweden took a few steps forward...and the boy burst into tears.

"Oh, you poor thing! Berwald's right, don't cry! I promise he's not as scary as he looks!" Finland walked over to the boy and picked him up easily, smiling warmly at the boy

Teary blue eyes blinked up at him as Finland spoke again, "I'm Tino, or Finland. This is Berwald, he represents Sweden."

The boy hid his face in Finland's neck as the older nation carried him over to Sweden. The head of blonde hair bobbed back up to look at tall, blue eyed nation. The unblinking eyes of the child stared at him, and Sweden stared right back. All of a sudden a blinding smile cracked on the little boys face as he began to giggle and reached out him arms for the other nation. Finland's eyebrows shot up as he realized the boy wanted Sweden to hold him, then the violet eyed nation got even more of a surprise when the stone faced nation actually took the little boy from him.

Finland smiled at the sight of the blonde child giggling as Sweden held him awkwardly, "I wonder what his name is?"

"Pr'bably d'esn't 'ave one. 'e's a n'tion." Sweden looked at the boy

"Well, we have to give him a name! We _are _keeping him after all, _right _Berwald?" Finland looked at the taller man, his words firm as he crossed his arms over his chest

"'f c'rse, my w'fe." If Finland wasn't mistaken, he saw a tiny smile twitch on the mans lips

Ignoring the wife comment, Finland began to brainstorm, "Maybe Leif? Or Alvar? How about Esa? Heikki is a good name, I've always liked that one! Alfred is also an option as well...maybe Kalevi might suite him?"

"'lfred." Sweden nodded in acceptance of the name

"Okay, then! Alfred it is!" Finland walked up to the boy who had fallen asleep in Sweden's arms, "He's so adorable! I wonder what Emil, Lukas, and Matthias will think of him?"

"They'll l've 'im." The tall man spoke with confidence

"What am I talking about?" Finland laughed a little, "Of course they'll love him!"

So the new family of three walked off to find the other Nordics, not knowing that soon the English would come. Not even suspecting their new found family would be broken up so soon.

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_**A/N: Don't kill me for Sweden's horrible speech/accent...I tried my best :(**_

_**Anyways, hope you guys like the idea! I'll continue this for sure, I really like the idea! How do you think Matthew factors in? How do the get split up? What will America's reaction be when he remembers all this?**_

_**Also, poor Sweden...making kids cry...Well he made up for it later by being adorable by holding little!America!**_


	2. Memories

**_Chapter 1: Memories_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

**_A/N: Thanks so much to those that reviewed, favorited, and added to alert! I appreciate it!_**

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_"Alfred, missä olet?" _

_The foreign language didn't sound so foreign to Alfred in the dream. He was multilingual, of course, as he was the personification of America and his citizens spoke many other languages beside English. However, even if he knew it was a language from one of the Nordic countries, it reminded him of something. Warm smiles, hugs, and family. He looked at the scene in front of him, wide eyed, as a young boy who looked about three ran into the clearing in the forest. He had blonde hair, wide blue eyes, and looked exactly like America right down to Nantucket that stuck up in the front of his hair. Wide eyed, Alfred watched as his younger self spoke that familiar language._

_"Olen täällä, mama!"_

_Mama? As in, mother? Alfred knew then this little boy couldn't be him. He didn't have a mother or a father, for that matter. After England found him, Arthur had kind of become his older brother and he had Matthew, who was sort of like a brother, but in their youth they had rarely seen each other. Matthew, or Canada, was under Francis at that time and they only really began to hang out years after the whole War of 1812 thing. Then again, maybe when he was this young before England came, he had had someone to look out for him? He could hardly remember anything from before his colonial days, so Alfred supposed it was possible._

_There was commotion to his right and Alfred looked up to see a man walking through the trees and towards the boy. It shocked Alfred, how much he and this man looked alike. Almost exactly the same bright hair, though his was a smidge lighter, and the shape of their eyes was exactly the same, though this man's were violet and his were blue. The slim arch of his eyebrow that rested in a natural arc was identical to Alfred's own. Holding his breath, Alfred slowly took a step towards the man. Was this his father, or, mother as his younger self had said?_

_"Tule tänne, lapsi!" The man smiled warmly, then stopped for a moment and furrowed his brows, "Mitä olen sanonut kutsumisestani mamaksi?"_

_The child giggled and raised his arms to be lifted up. The man complied and wrapped one slim arm around the small child's waist, holding the kid on his hip._

_"__Mutta papa Berwald ja setä Matthias sanoivat että olet mama__!" The child idly tugged at the mans hair_

_Huffing, the man shook his head, "Voin kuvitella Matthiaksen tekevän niin, mutta Berwald?" _

_As the two began to walk away, something tugged in Alfred's chest. He felt as though he was allowing a piece of his past, his history, just walk away from him. Stumbling a little, he dived after the two as they exited the clearing._

_"WAIT!" He yelled, hoping to stop them_

_When he burst out of the trees, no one was there. He felt sad, as though he had lost something important. As the dream began to dissolve, he looked around one last time for his past._

* * *

When Alfred opened his eyes he was in bed alone with an empty feeling in chest. Taking a shaky breath and just laying there for a second, he wondered what the hell that dream was. Shaking himself out of it, he turned his head to look at the clock. It was six fifteen and the meeting began at seven. Groaning, he sat up and rubbed his eyes before dragging himself out of bed. It was _way _too early to be awake, then again, for Alfred even twelve in the evening was too early.

Dressing quickly, Alfred exited his home and walked out into the crisp and cold November air. He had been staying in his New York apartment for the upcoming meeting, so the building he had to go to was just down the street. Having extra time, he dropped in McDonalds and got a few breakfast sandwiches and a large coffee. As he walked down the street to the meeting place, his citizens nodded and smiled at him kindly. It was the bond that the citizens had with their nation, they always subconsciously knew who they were so they usually nodded or said hello.

In a much better mood than he had been that morning, a good walk in the cool air really cleared his mind, he entered through the double doors and walked down the hall to the meeting room. When he walked in it was ten minutes before the meeting began. Even though he was the hosting nation, and should therefore be running the meeting, Germany always took charge of them.

He looked for an empty seat, as they weren't assigned but everyone had a usual seat they sat in. America looked in between England and France, where he normally sat, but Canada was there. Surveying the rest of the area he saw two more empty seats, one was between Russia and Ukraine. Nothing against Ukraine, she seemed nice enough, but he hated that Russian bastard. Communist or not, he was and always would be an asshole. From the creepy smile Russia gave him, the bigger nation knew what America was thinking and returned the feelings equally. Inwardly rolling his eyes, he looked at the other seat. It was in between Sweden and Norway.

Shrugging, he quickly walked over before someone else could snag the seat between the two Nordics.

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_**A/N: Hope you enjoy it!**_

_**Question of the Chapter: Will the Nordics recognize Alfred? What should happen?**_

_**TRANSLATIONS! (Thank you so much to Quarter-blood99 for translating the Finnish for me!)**_

_**Finnish:**_

_**_"Alfred, missä olet?" = "Alfred, where are you?"_**_

_**__"Olen täällä, mama!"_ = "I'm here, mama!"_**_

_**_**_"Tule tänne, lapsi!"_** = "Come here, child!"_**_

**_"Mitä olen sanonut kutsumisestani mamaksi?" = "What have I said calling me mother?"_**

**_"Mutta papa Berwald ja setä Matthias sanoivat että olet mama!"=__ "But papa Berwald and Uncle Matthias said you were a mama!"_**

**_"Voin kuvitella Matthiaksen tekevän niin, mutta Berwald?" = "I can imagine Matthias doing that, but Berwald?"_**

_**I'm really excited about this story! I can't wait to really get into the plot! And write more flashback with little Alfred!**_


	3. Making Friends

**_Chapter 3: Making Friends_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

**_Explanation: Most nations dont even know each other's human names and, if they do, they don't use them around other nations. This is because a nations human name is a very intimate thing, shared only with the person who raised the nation or very important people in the nations life. Only England and Canada (and the Nordics, they just don't realize it) know America's human name. England doesn't use it because he denies any parental/friendly relationship with Alfred and Canada uses it as he's Alfred's 'brother' (they're not really related). In return, Alfred knows both Canada and England's names, though he almost never greets England with anything other than Iggy._**

**_A/N: Thanks so much to those that reviewed, favorited, and added to alert! I appreciate it so so so much!_**

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Alfred sat down in his seat quietly, not even earning a sideways glance from the five Nations who seemed to be lined up in a row, except for the seat in between Sweden and Norway. Shuffling his papers, America avoided any and all hateful stares sent his way by the other Nations. It was like a practice by now, ignoring how much the rest of the world despised him. However, soon enough the jibes and pokes started.

"Look, America the lazy. Have you paid of all that debt yet?" Cuba sneered, venom in his words

Keeping his blue eyes trained forwards as Germany began his presentation, Alfred was sure to keep a big smile on his face. It wouldn't due to let them know how much their words stung, after all. If that happened then they would just swam on his like a pack of wolves, devouring any pride he had left.

"You really think that is a possibility? Of course he hasn't." Syria rolled his eyes from where he sat

He tuned out the rest of them, keeping that Hollywood smile on his face. Occupying his mind were thoughts of what he would do after he got out of that wretched meeting. Maybe go to McDonalds and grab a couple burgers and a large soda, or perhaps he could go for a jog. Yes, jogging was certainly healthier and Alfred was really trying to stay fit. Not for himself, so much as his country and people. Just like his citizens affected his, he affected his citizens. In his mind, maybe if he was healthier then his people would be. Jogging it was then, maybe he could go down to the mall. It was only a few blocks away, not that far to go. He wouldn't get exhausted and he could start his Christmas shopping. It was the beginning of November, after all, he was already behind.

"Now, England, it is your turn to present, ja?" Germany asked as he sat down

"Yes, Germany, it is." The Englishman nodded as he stood and took his place at the podium, "Now, as I'm sure we're all aware, tourists are very popular in most places. However, tourists from_ some countries_ severely disrupt things."

Blue eyes burned holes into England's head as he continued with his presentation. Alfred glared, knowing what Arthur meant by some countries. More like one, the United States. How were his people supposed to know those stupid European customs? You couldn't google everything and sometimes you just have to learn by experience. Besides, he couldn't count the number of times his day was ruined by some snotty European or Asian tourist.

Alfred wasn't foolish enough to think all the people from those continents were like that. That would be like saying all Canadians love maple usurp or that all Americans are fat and lazy. The point is there are horrible people everywhere. Not just in the United States.

These idiots didn't seem to get that.

When the meeting came to a close and the nations were finally dismissed, Alfred shot up out of his seat, more than ready to leave. However, he faltered when he saw some others point at him and snicker. His face burned and he knew it was probably flushed bright red. Hoping to play it off he gave a big smile and got ready to bolt out the door.

"Which nation has such shitty citizens that England had to talk about it?" Cuba mockingly questioned

"Is that really a question, aru?" China asked as he gathered his papers, giving America a sideways look

Gritting his teeth, all embarrassment left Alfred's system. They could mock him, laugh at him, insult him, but they wouldn't say a word about his citizens. His citizens who fought for their country, who loved their home and said the pledge every Monday. His citizens who felt pride in not what their nation has become, but what it could become.

"What did you say?" Alfred smiled dangerously and watched Cuba laugh at him, not taking him seriously. So he stalked forward, like a lion hunting it's prey.

"I said shitty citi-" Cuba was cut of by a voice behind Alfred

"We all heard perfectly well what you said."

Alfred stopped in his tracks and spun around to see who had spoken. It had been Finland who stood with his family, the Nordic countries, behind him. Cuba opened his mouth to say something, but it snapped close with one glare from Sweden. It was a general rule not to piss the Swedish man off, even Russia refrained from doing it.

"Come on, now, America!" Denmark smiled widely in a manner similar to Alfred, "Let's go, we can just leave these idiots to it!"

Blinking in confusion, Alfred just stared as Denmark grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room. Looking back he saw Norway shaking his head as the rest of the Nordics left the room behind the two usually cheerful blonde men. Iceland walked beside his brother calmly while Finland held Sweden's hand as he led the tall man out of the room.

"You okay?" Finland asked, concerned, as soon as they were out of the other nations hearing range

"Yeah, I'm fine!" America flashed a large smile

"They're getting too egotistical, thinking they know everything and have the right to say things like that about fellow nations." Finland sniffed, looking peeved, "Don't listen to them."

"I don't, trust me!" The smile stayed on his face as he lied through his teeth, in actuality that was really the only thing he did pay attention to

"Good!" The Finnish man smiled kindly, "When you sat with us today I was a bit surprised, even though our nations have fairly good relations, we never speak much!"

"Yeah!" Denmark butted in, "We should totally go out drinking sometime-!"

"Shut up." Norway spoke coldly, looking at the spiky haired man with his usual cold eyes

The Danish man simply laughed loudly and threw an arm around the violet eyed Norwegian. In a practiced move, Norway gripped Denmark's tie and pulled hard. America looked at the two with varying degrees of shock as the Danish man was chocked before turning back to the other three Nordics.

"U-um, yeah. Why was the randomly a seat between you guys anyways?" Alfred spoke, trying to ignore the two men behind him

"Well, Sealand was supposed to be here with us today. Unfortunately, England has forbid him from coming to this meeting as his room was not clean." Finland frowned softly

"Oh yeah, Sealand spent a little bit of time with you guys didn't he?"

"Yes, 'e did." Sweden spoke in his rough, broken speech

"However he seems to not like to spend as much time with us." Finland frowned a bit before smiling once more, "Anyways, it has been a pleasure meeting you. I hope we'll speak again soon."

As he watched the five nations walk away, Denmark and Norway now back to normal, he felt warmth in his chest. Maybe someone did care about him after all.

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_**A/N: Hope you enjoy it!**_

_**Question of the Chapter: Why do you think the Nordics helped Alfred?**_


	4. Going Out Drinking

**_Chapter 4: Going Out Drinking_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

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Signing papers really was the worst part of the job, America decided as he began to nod off to sleep. He was a very active person, always talking or jumping around or doing _something _and not just sitting at a desk writing his signature and reading boring crap. Besides, who the hell wanted to sign papers at eleven o'clock at night? No one. So, needless to say, when someone knocked at his door he didn't care who it was as long as it got him out of paperwork for a little while. It was probably Mattie, although his best friend and basically brother never came to visit him usually. Alfred was always the one to go over to Canada's house, Alfred could probably count the times Matthew had come to him on one hand. That was who it had to be, though, because who the hell else would visit him?

As soon as he saw the blonde, spiky hair he knew something was up. Then, when Alfred looked into identical blue eyes, he knew what was going on. Denmark, one of the _Nordic countries_, was outside his door. Eyes wide, he opened the door wider as he stared at the Dane in front of him.

"What the hell...?" America muttered, thoroughly confused

"Hey, America!" Denmark smiled widely, laughing at Alfred's reaction, "I said we'd go out drinking sometime!"

"Um, yeah, I was just thinking I'd get a warning. Besides, how'd you find my house?" America paused, "When did you even get in the _country_?"

"Oh, I got your address from your brother...um...Cambodia? No, maybe Colombia? That's not it either! Oh, is it Cuba-?"

"Canada!" Alfred stressed, interrupting Denmark's guesses, "My brother is Canada."

"Who?" The Danish man tilted his head in confusion

"The really big land mass above the United States?" Alfred spoke slowly

"Yeah, okay!" Denmark nodded even though he obviously had no clue what Alfred was talking about, "Anyway, I flew in about a day ago. It took me awhile to get here from the airport. America is a really big place."

"No joke!" Alfred laughed, of course he had never gotten lost in his country as he knew every nook and cranny of it, but he could imagine how horrible it was for tourists from another country.

Leaving the apartment, the two nations got in Alfred's car, Denmark insisting that since he was older he got to drive. Alfred protested that logic, but currently he was just focusing on the rush of excitement he felt when he laughed and joked with the Dane. True, he would be thrilled to hang out with someone else other than Mattie, but even though he just started to talk with Denmark, it felt familiar. Too familiar, like he had known him his whole life.

They reached the bar and parallel parked on the side of the street. It was close to midnight now, the sky was dark and the smell of alcohol permeated the air. The neon red sign blinking the name of the bar illuminated the street with the help of two street lamps. When the two nations walked in, they found many drunkards already wasted lying around the bar as the bartender glared, wanting to kick the sleeping drunks out more than anything. America and Denmark walked up to the bar and ordered their respective alcohols. They simply sat at the bar drinking, chatting, and acting like general idiots.

As he talked with the Danish man, America realized how much he enjoyed other peoples company. He was a social person, enjoying contact with other living beings. Although, seeing as everyone seemed to hate his guts, he never really got that much of it. Sometimes he considered getting a dog but then scratched that idea off his list, he was almost never home and wouldn't be able to take care of it. Then, after only a few shots, he stopped thinking and just became totally intoxicated. Of course, this led Denmark to question exactly how much he got out and drank.

"Probably not that much if that little alcohol gets him drunk." The spiky haired man muttered to himself as he half dragged the American home

He had been planning to stay and drink a little longer, but when America passed the threshold of being drunk, he began to question that. The last straw was when America began to get on the bar and strip while singing Sexy Back. It was a hilarious and scarring memory, but he had been through worse when he went out drinking with the Bad Touch Trio. So Denmark had climbed on the bar, grabbed America, and dragged him out of the place. Restraining himself from punching some sleazy guy who grabbed America's butt on the way out, he decided the next time they went out drinking he would give the other man a limit of three shots.

America, meanwhile, had passed out about the time Denmark had buckled him up in the car. The Dane proceeded to hop in the drivers seat, ignoring America as he fought his way through New York traffic. That is, until America started muttering in Swedish.

"_Var är du_?" America shifted in his sleep

The hell? Denmark nearly slammed on the breaks as he heard the American speak Sweden's language. How did America know that? Sure, he could have learned it, but how many nations outside the Nordics took the time to learn Swedish? Shaking his head, Denmark slowly realized that the nation of America had no language boundaries. That would mean he could possibly know more languages than any other nation currently alive. Of course, that had always been a possibility but the spiky haired man had never realized it. America always spoke English from what he could tell, never addressing any of the other nations in their usual language. Glancing at the man in the passenger seat, Denmark decided it might due him some good to keep an eye on the American.

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_**A/N: Hope you enjoy it! It was kinda short, but I've been really busy with school and what not. Hope you enjoyed it anyways!**_

_**Question of the Chapter: How should the Nordics found out that America is their Alfred?**_


	5. Foreign Dreams

**_Chapter 5: Foreign Dreams_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

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As Alfred slowly felt himself fade out of conscious with the sound of the car engine humming, he began to dream .

* * *

_He was alone, standing in a field of tall green grass. Looking around, he felt panic shoot through him like an arrow. Where were mor and far? They should be here with him, he shouldn't be alone, right? He could feel hot tears well up in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around himself. Alfred startled, realizing that those were not his thoughts and the emotions he was feeling were not his own, more like an echo of someone else's._

_"_Var är du_?" Alfred heard the words fall out of his mouth fluently_

_"Hello?" A mans voice came from ahead, the English lit slapping Alfred in the face and telling him who this man was_

_However, the body he was in didn't seem to understand that it was just Arthur. Scrambling to run, he dove for a particularly tall patch of weeds and watched through them as two blonde men came into his range of vision. _

_"Mon ami, I do not think he is here." The Frenchman Alfred immediately identified as France spoke to England_

_"You bloody frog, I heard something!" The Englishman snapped, green eyes narrowing_

_"Whatever you say, Angleterre." France sighed and shook his head_

_Alfred could feel the confusion inside this persons head, the languages foreign and completely new to him. Recoiling, the body he occupied began to tiptoe backward, away from the two nations. Alfred screamed in his head that these two were friends, that they could help. However, the person couldn't seem to hear him and Alfred couldn't help but think maybe it was for the best. Would England and France _really _help him? From what Alfred had witnessed and heard at the past meetings, that was a no._

_Arthur, though, didn't seem to be convinced, "I know someone's here. If you are out there, little one, just come on out! We won't hurt you."_

_The person stopped, and Arthur could hear the thoughts running through their brain. Thoughts like they sound like mor and far, maybe they are safe, maybe they can help me find my family ran though across their mind. All of a sudden, the feet began to move and like an gunshot, they were running towards France and England. When the person stopped, they had to totally tilt their head up to see the two nations._

_"Gah!" England gasped, nearly stumbling back as the child grabbed onto his legs_

_"Mor!" The words slipped out of the persons mouth, "Far!"_

_"More what? What's far?" Arthur looked confused as he shot a look at Francis_

_"Kan du hjälpa mig att hitta mamma och pappa? Snälla? Jag kan inte hitta dem eller mina farbröder!" The words slipped out like water, rolling off of the persons tounge so easily the child must have been fluent_

_"Bloody hell! The child is speaking in tongues!" England whipped around to look at France, "Have you heard this before?"_

_The Frenchman shook his head, "I-I can't say I have. However, I do believe this is the one we're looking for."_

_England looked over the child with criticizing eyes, "Yes, he has the nation aura. It's going to be a pain to teach him a civilized language though!"_

_"Non." France shook his head, "French isn't that hard to learn."_

_Arthur bristled, "Who said anything about learning French? I have custody of him, he will be my colony, he's learning English!"_

_Scoffing, France shook his head, "Big Brother France should have custody of him! Matthieu needs a playmate anyways!"_

_"Who?" England was confused for a moment before shaking his head, "No matter! Obviously, since he's clinging to me, he wants me to raise him!"_

_"You were closer!" France rolled his eyes and knelt so he was eye level with the child, "What is your name, mon enfant?"_

_Alfred felt the child's blue eyes widened as he clung to England tighter, "Skrämmande!"_

_"See!" Arthur reached down and Alfred felt himself being pushed behind the older nation, "You scared the poor lad!"_

_What the hell was going on? Alfred was inside someone, a child apparently, and had no control whatsoever. It was like he was living someone else's memory in their body, but that was impossible, wasn't it? Apparently this kid he was inside was a nation, but which one? Alfred recognized the language as a Nordic one, like in his last dream, but weren't some of the Nordics older than even France and England? It couldn't possibly be one of the five Nordics that Arthur and France were currently discovering. WHo the hell was it then, and why was he inside them like this? Oh god, Alfred thought, did I really drink that much?_

_"Tch!" France huffed, "Fine! However, are you just going to keep calling him colony? He needs a name!"_

_"Why should you know his human name?" England raised an eyebrow, "Those are very sensitive things, you know, and few nations ever learn another nations human name."_

_"You'll know it!" France protested_

_"I'm raising him!" Arthur rolled his eyes, sneering_

_"Oui, and I'm basically raising his brother!" France huffed, "We'll basically be family and as his big brother I should know!"_

_"Self proclaimed big brother." England spoke dryly, "Besides, that boy you're raising is just close to my colony geographically. That does not mean they are brothers. However, I suppose there's no way I can stop you."_

_Kneeling in front of him, Alfred watched as England's green eyes bored into the child's own, "Who are you?"_

_Arthur pointed at him, speaking slowly, and Alfred could feel the child's brain processing what was happening quickly, "Jag? Jag är Alfred."_

_"So, Alfred?" France raised a delicate eyebrow, "That's the only partially English words I got out of that."_

_Thoughts coming to a screeching halt, Alfred's brain nearly shut down. This child, this foreign speaking child, was him? How the hell did he know a Nordic language so young? Who were these people he was crying for? Most of all, as he had learned from his child self's thoughts, he had a family?_

_"Very well Alfred!" England cried out as he pried Alfred off his leg and lifted him up, "I'm England, but you can call me dad. That frog is France, you can call him pervert."_

_"Quoi!" France snapped, scowling lightly_

_"Stora ögonbryn? Storebror?" Alfred felt himself speak_

_In all he remembered from his colonial days, England had never been dad. Always brother, occasionally big brother, but never father or dad. It had felt wrong to even thing of the Englishman like that, and it still kind of did. That's just not the role Arthur filled for him, but maybe that's because he apparently had a family before this. Did little Alfred mistake family for a bunch of woodland animals or plants? Did he have a human family back them, were they dead? As far as he knew, no other nations came to his land before France and England, or maybe he'd have to do a little researching after his hangover tomorrow. Chances are this so called family was human and had died over two hundred years ago._

_That would be his luck, wouldn't it?_

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_**A/N: Hope you enjoy it! Sorry for any mistakes, I wrote this at three AM last night, so yeah. Anyways, translations below! So, Alfred is beginning to have dreams from child!Alfred POV. Hmm, how will this end?**_

_**Question of the Chapter: Will Alfred figure it out? Will Denmark still be there when he wakes up? Should Denmark tell Sweden about Alfred speaking Swedish? What should happen next?**_

_**TRANSLATIONS (Sorry if they're off, I use Google Translate!):**_

_**Swedish~**_

_**"Kan du hjälpa mig att hitta mamma och pappa? Snälla? Jag kan inte hitta dem eller mina farbröder!" - "**_Can you help me find mommy and daddy? Please? I can't find them or my uncles!"_****_

_****_"Mor" - "Mom"_****_

_****_"Far" - "Dad"_****_

_****__"Var är du_?" - "Where are you?"_****_

_****_"Skrämmande!" - "Scary!"_****_

_****_"Jag? Jag är Alfred." - "I? I am Alfred."_****_

_****__"Stora ögonbryn? Storebror?" - "Large eyebrows? Big brother?"__****_

_****_French~_****_

_****_"mon enfant" - "my child"_****_

_****_"Matthieu" - "Matthew"_****_

_****_"Non" - "No"_****_

_****_"Quoi!" - "What!"_****_


	6. Questions and No Answers

**_Chapter 6: Questions and No Answers_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

* * *

Bolting up, Alfred gasped, "_Mor_! _Far_!"

Not even questioning the slip in languages, Alfred wildly looked around at his surroundings. There was no field, no France, no England. Hell he wasn't even passed out in the bar but in him own bed. Glancing over at the side table he saw a glass of water and two little brown tablets, probably Advil for the headache he was sure to have when he fully woke up. He figured Denmark had driven them home and dragged Alfred's drunken and probably passed out ass to bed. It was more than Mattie ever did for him when they went drinking. Usually when he woke up after one of those nights, Matt had just left him at the bar and text him when he though Alfred was awake. On a good night, though, the Canadian would drag him to the front of his house and leave him on the porch under the protection of the canopy.

As his head began to pound, he quickly downed the Advil with a quick swig of water. He rally needed to quit drinking so much when he went to bars. He couldn't even fathom how much he had drunk last night, but it had to be enough to give him a pounding headache. He was a _nation _for gods sake, couldn't he get a free get out of jail with the whole hangover thing? As far as Alfred knew, Russia could down a million shots of vodka and not even be phased, why did the American have such a hard time with drinking? Sure, he had never really been that great at it and the alcohol kind of burned his throat, but he still enjoyed going to bars and getting totally hammered. He just didn't enjoy the headaches afterwards.

Groaning, he flopped back down of his bed and covered his head with a pillow in a vein attempt to block out the light from his window.

* * *

"Yeah, I'm in America...Did I forget to tell you?...Huh, that's funny!" Denmark laughed and rubbed his neck nervously

Berwald's disgruntled reply came from over the phone, speaking of how the other Nordics had been worried and such. Rolling his eyes, Denmark just nodded his head even though he knew the Swede on the other line couldn't see him. Sweden was really a worry wart sometimes, despite his stoic and unflappable appearance. Quickly retailing the events that had happened to him so far in the US of A, conveniently leaving out him getting lost, he retailed the tale of America speaking Swedish in the car.

"_He spe'ks m' language_?" The choppy words came over his mobile

"Yeah! How many of the nations know Swedish?" Denmark paused the scoffed, "How many nations know _any _of the Nordic languages other than us five?"

There was a pause, "_Do y' think 'e knows the other four?"_

Denmark sighed, "I don't know. As far as I can tell, the United States has no official language boundaries. English is the most common, but there are others who don't even speak that. It's possible, but why would he take the time to learn all of them? I mean, only about four percent of his citizens have Scandinavian decent."

"_...Big words for y'..._" Was the only response Denmark got

Laughing, Denmark shook his head, "I'll try and find out. Maybe surprise him with questions or something like that!"

"_Don't traumatize 'im Matthias_!" Sweden grumbled over the phone, knowing exactly how _excitable_ Denmark could get.

"I won't, I won't!" Denmark completely waved off the warning, "Anyways, see you!"

"_G'dbye_." The line went dead

Looking around the kitchen, Denmark sighed and really hoped America had some decent food that didn't include hamburgers. Maybe rolls with jam? That sounded _great _at that point.

* * *

_Alfred had fallen asleep again, he knew when he saw the scene play out behind his closed eyelids._

_There were three men standing in front of him, one a young adult and the other two in their teens. One man had spiky, slightly long hair and bared much resemblance to Denmark. The other two, one in their late teens and the other younger, stood by the older mans side as they curiously watched him approach. The older one had nearly white blonde hair and striking violet eyes, almost no expression on his face. The younger of these two had pure white hair and indigo colored eyes that sent an almost irrational trill of fear through Alfred. The older two wore fur capes that were fastened with an old, circular pin and a fancy tunic and pants underneath. The younger were a simpler, layered tunic and pant set. All three seemed to have a few braids in their hair somewhere and seemed very serious and dangerous._

_"Hvem er den unge?" The oldest man spoke in a language that Alfred was almost certain was Danish_

_Eyes widening, he looked over the three men carefully. The younger one, he looked like that Iceland guy he had seen at the conference. The older teenager looked like Norway, the guys who had kicked Denmark's butt awhile back. The oldest, spiky haired man himself though looked exactly like Denmark and, with him speaking Danish, Alfred was positive that this man was him. _

_"Dette er Alfred. Vi fandt ham i skoven, alene, og vi mener, han er en nation." Alfred's eyes snapped to a person beside him who replied in the same language Denmark used._

_This man wore no cape, but the same fancy tunic and pants that the other older ones wore and had an animal pelt draped over one shoulder. His light blonde hair was bright and his happy purple violet eyes gave off a cheerful vibe. The man beside his stood tall, pretty much bigger than any other nation Alfred had seen except maybe Russia, and had outfits similar to the other older men except his cape was furless. His expression was emotionless, his blue eyes were identical to both Denmark and Alfred, and his slightly shaggy blonde hair fell to his shoulders. With a jolt, Alfred realized exactly who these men wore. The smaller man with violet eyes, the same man he had seen in the earliest dream he had gotten, was Finland. The taller, brooding man was Sweden. Glancing around again, Alfred realized he was looking at the Nordic Five in their Viking days which, not only was pretty damn scary, was very confusing. _

_"Hvorfor er han her?" Norway's eyes flickered over him, the Norwegian language rolling off his tounge_

_"Ve're oppdra ham!" Finland smiled widely, flashing his teeth_

_They were talking about him and why he was there. According to Finland, these five powerful nations were going to raise his child self. Thinking back to the previous dream, Alfred clicked the pieces together. This was the family he had been wailing about when he had clung to England. Here were his long lost parents and uncles the child had screamed for. Internally shaking his head, as he could do nothing but watch through baby America's eyes, he knew it could be true. It was just some fantasy he had concocted because the Nordics had pitied him and showed him kindness and he was desperate for a real family. _

_However, as he watched Sweden give a small smile to him, felt Finland hug him, heard Iceland say it was good not to be the youngest anymore, saw a flicker of happiness of Norway's face before it went blank, and felt Denmark slap his back so hard his small body went tumbling..._

_He couldn't help but wish it was real._

* * *

_**A/N: Fun fact, about 3.8% of the citizens in the USA are Scandinavian Americans (includes Swedish, Finnish, Danish, Norwegian, Icelandic, Greenlandic, and Faroese (The Faroe Islands are an autonomous country within the Kingdom of Denmark, situated between the Norwegian Sea and the North Atlantic Ocean, approximately halfway between Norway and Iceland))! I probably researched this a bit too much...oh well! Learned something new!**_

_**Question of the Chapter: So, Alfred is starting to speak/recognize the languages of the Nordic 5 easily now...do ya think he'll catch on or need a little help? Also, on a scale of 1 to 10 how scary will Papa Sweden be when he realizes how crappy the other nations treat his son, Alfred/USA? I mean, Sweden **_**did _used to be a Viking..._**

**_Also, please review leaving your opinions and any suggestions, comments, or tips. It really gets me motivated for writing, and I read and love every single one probably more than once! It's like giving Italy pasta XD_**

_**TRANSLATIONS (Sorry if they're off, I use Google Translate!):**_

_**Swedish~**_

_****_"Mor" - "Mom"_****_

_****_"Far" - "Dad"_****_

_****_Norwegian~_****_

_****_"Hvorfor er han her?" - "Why is he here?"_****_

_****__"Ve're oppdra ham!"_ \- "We're raising him!"_****_

_****_Danish~_****_

_****__"Hvem er den unge?" _\- "Who is the young one?"_****_

_****_"Dette er Alfred. Vi fandt ham i skoven, alene, og vi mener, han er en nation." - "**_This is Alfred. We found him in the forest, alone, and we believe he is a nation._**"_****_


	7. Unexpected

**_Chapter 7: Unexpected_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

* * *

Denmark sat at America's kitchen table, bored after rifling through America's pantry and taking a self guided tour of his home. It wasn't like he could get lost in the house, there were two floors with an attic. The American had a fairly small house when compared to others, such as Russia or England. However it was cozy, and seemed great for having guests over with the comfy furniture and the spare bedrooms. It just seemed a little...barren to Denmark. When you enter the house, it's almost like it's brand new because there are no pictures, no personal items except the quilts that covered the couch, and the bookshelves were nearly empty.

At his _own _house, Denmark knew he had pictures of his family scattered all over the place. Be it new pictures of Sweden, Finland, Norway, and Iceland or old sketches of _him_. They were hanging on the walls everywhere and his house constantly smelled either like a bar, or like whatever cleaner Finland and Norway forced him to use for spring cleaning. He had old Christmas gifts lining the shelves and keepsakes that were important to him in the attic so they didn't get broken. Freezing, Denmark realized that's the one place he didn't look, the attic! He'd have to sneak up there soon, maybe when he's sure America is asleep.

"Hey! Sorry, dude, I kinda passed out on you!" Denmark turned to see America rubbing his head

"It's fine, no problem really!" Denmark nodded at him and gestured to his dirty plate still sitting in front of him, "You had a million more choices in food than I though. I figured it'd be hamburger flavored cereal or something, but nope! You had noodles, eggs, bacon, and a lot more!"

"Yeah." The American sheepishly smiled, "I never eat that stuff though. My favorite breakfast is usually just rolls with jam or jelly. Something simple and easy like that."

Denmark raised his eyebrows in surprise, "I figured you would go to McDonalds or something."

Scowling, America looked at Denmark, "I don't even really like McDonalds. Sure, once in awhile maybe, but not every meal like you guys believe. I do cook, McDonalds is just fast and easier than cooking."

"Of course." Denmark realized he was pretty much doing what all the other nations did to the younger country and wanted to beat his own head against a wall.

Sighing, Denmark watched as America got out the bread and chose strawberry favored jam. Denmark shook his head to himself, mixed fruit was so much better than strawberry. Silence washed over the table as America sat back down and shoved the food in his face. Denmark decided then that he was going to test his little theory that America knew all the Nordic language. Finnish as probably the hardest to learn and if he learned that, he either spent a lot of time or learned it when he was younger.

"_Ah, America, jossa on kylpyhuone_?" Denmark watched him as he raised his head in response

"_Mene käytävää pitkin, se on oikealla_." Alfred replied with no hesitation before freezing and looking up at the Dane with wide eyes

Smirking, Denmark raised an eyebrow, "You know Finnish."

"Um, yes?" It came out as a question as Alfred's heart began to beat faster

"How? Did you take all that time to learn it, or did you learn it as a child?" The Danish man leaned forward

"Um, England taught me a lot as a kid. I guess he taught me languages too and I just forgot." America smiled tensely, still confused as to how all this fit together, "You know, my head still hurts. I, uh, think I'm gonna go to bed. There's a guest room-"

"I know where it is." Denmark nodded at him, "Get some sleep. You were beyond drunk last night."

The Dane watched as America rushed off upstairs. He was confused, first Swedish and now Finnish? It was safe to assume he knew Norwegian and Icelandic too. Sighing, Denmark whipped out his phone and quickly sent a text to Sweden. He was going to find out answers, and hopefully those answers would be in the attic. Waiting a few moments so he was sure America would be passed out, Denmark quietly slipped up the stairs. He passed by America's bedroom, the door closed tightly and Denmark could guess it was locked, and continued on until he reached the ladder that led up to the attic. Climbing up with ease, he unlatched the door and gently pushed up on it. The wood made a slight creaking noise as it moved and Denmark carefully pulled himself up into the room.

Wide blue eyes blinked in amazement as he looked around at the room that basically had more historical American artifacts in it than any museum could ever hope fore. Carefully walking through the larger room, Denmark saw more recent army uniforms and helmets. One from every department in the American military, it seemed, along with the dog tags America had received. All of the uniforms were folded and placed in a carefully constructed wooden cubby like structure, though it was very dusty and obviously hadn't been touched in awhile. A glass case that was right beside the uniforms held many military medals and other things of that sort. As he walked back he began to notice the things got older. A helmet from World War Two, an Air Force uniform from that same time period. Continuing to walk back on past the World War One section he saw something, the Union flag.

The American Civil War, he realized as he looked at the tattered blue uniform that had been shoved in a corner along with it's grey counterpart. Picking up a metal box, he opened it and saw stacks upon stacks of paper. All were on old, crinkled paper and held the same messy writing. Eyes widening, he read the one on top that was addressed to someone named Matthew;

_Dear Matthew__,_

_He's dead, I'm alive. Tell England to go screw himself._

_Signed,_

_The REUNITED States of America_

Quickly shutting the lid, Denmark put the box back. This isn't what he was looking for, hell, he wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for in the first place. Quickly moving past that he stopped dead when he saw it. An American Revolution uniform. Smirking, he looked at the gun that must've been America's. Geez, that kid had really kicked England's ass back then. Moving on past the folded flags and the revolution artifacts, he saw a chest. All by itself, it sat in the very back and looked like it hadn't been touched in a hundred years. Quickly kneeling, Denmark pushed the lid up. Metal squealing as the lid eased itself open, Denmark's eyes flittered across what he saw on top of the chest.

A journal. Picking up the old leather bound object, Denmark opened it. Glancing across the first blank page, Denmark noticed the smudged ink at he bottom.

_Property of Alfred Kirkland._

* * *

_**A/N: Well, Denmark found out his first name! What shall happen next?**_

_**Question of the Chapter: Will Denmark try and deny that America is really their Alfred?**_

_**TRANSLATIONS (Sorry if they're off, I use Google Translate!):**_

_**Finnish~**_

_**"Ah, America, jossa on kylpyhuone?" - "Ah, America, where is the bathroom?"**_

_**"Mene käytävää pitkin, se on oikealla." - "Down this hall, it's on the left."**_


	8. Alfred Kirkland

**_Chapter 8: Alfred Kirkland_**

**_Note: I made a small slip up. Denmark called America Alfred when they were talking before Denmark discovered the journal with America's human name. He DID NOT know America's human name before the discovery of the journal, I just wrote that chapter at 3 AM and was very tired, mistakes were bound to happen :)_**

**_ALSO the note Denmark reads in Alfred's journal is in Swedish so the translation will be at the bottom._**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

* * *

_Property of Alfred Kirkland._

Denmark nearly dropped the journal in shock as he stared at the messily printed name. Alfred? That was what _his _name had been, the name of his baby brother. That had been the name of Sweden and Finland's son, the same child that had disappeared all those years ago. It was around the time the English had began to come into the New World but...there was no way it was possible. It was incomprehensible that the child Berwald and Tino found had grown up to be a world superpower, had grown up to be the_ United States_. Then again, America looked like a mix of Sweden and Finland just like Alfred had. Flipping to the first page, Denmark's eyes widened when he saw the language it was written in. Swedish.

_Kära Bok,_

_Storebror England sa till mig att öva mitt skrivande här. Jag tror att han försöker lära mig engelska, men jag vet inte vad som är fel med pappas språk. Han vill också att jag ska kalla honom pappa, men han är inte pappa, så jag kommer inte. Jag saknar mina farbröder och föräldrar, men storebror England är trevligt också, antar jag. Jag bara verkligen vill ha min familj tillbaka._

_Undertecknat,_

_Alfred Oxenstierna (Broder England sa mitt efternamn är Kirkland nu, men jag gillar fortfarande pappas namn bättre så jag ska använda det.)_

Taking a deep breath, Denmark closed his eyes tightly. Oxenstierna, that was Sweden's last name. The uncles he mentioned were himself, Norway, and Iceland. Rereading it quickly, Denmark felt anger build up in his chest. How dare England think he could just steal away a child from their family? Did he know whose child it was he took? Also, despite the revolution, how could you treat someone you had raised in the manner that England treated America? Alfred or not, Denmark didn't think it was right just because that's not something family does. Family loves each other no matter what, and England was not following that ideal.

Not to mention the rest of the nations and how they treated America. It was bad enough when he was just a person, but know to find out he's probably _their Alfred_...well he knew his family well and they were gonna be pissed. Hell, Denmark himself was pissed, but he didn't even want to know how mad Sweden and Finland would be. He was sure Tino would rip into the nations, especially England, pretty good when he found out. The Finnish man was very kind, but he also had a lot of rage for such a tiny person. Then onto Berwald...Denmark shivered to think what would happen when the Swede found out. After all, Sweden had fought wars with Russia, Norway, and even Denmark himself. Not to mention he'd won or, in the case of the war with Russia, hadn't gained or lost anything. Not to mention his Viking days, and how powerful he'd been in the 19th century...despite having severely chilled over the past years, if you made Sweden mad enough he was a force to be reckoned with.

Picking up the book, Denmark's eyes narrowed as he began to read the next entry.

_Dear Journal,_

_It's been a long time since I have written in you. Big Brother England has taught me lots of English, but it's still confusing. I like using dad's language better because I know more of it. Brother England has given upon asking me to call him dad. I just call him brother. His house is okay, it's smells really good. The smell is like the tea he drinks. I still miss my mom and dad and uncles. I guess since I don't have a choice to be with them anymore, Brother England is the best option._

_Signed,_

_Alfred Kirkland (Brother England really says I need to use his last name. I think it's because he can't even say dad's last name.)_

Shaking his head, Denmark remembered the long nights spent searching for the boy. They had gone so many days without sleep, his whole family and himself had been sick with worry. He still remembers, after a year with no trace of Alfred, when they decided what had happened to him. The Nordics thought he maybe represented one of the native tribes that England had killed off, so Alfred had died with them. Denmark could still see Finland's eyes fill with tears, remembers Sweden wrapping his arms around Finland to comfort the smaller man, how Iceland had hung his head, and how Norway had rushed out of the room. He himself had mourned for years with the rest of his family, moving on but never forgetting the little boy they had raised for years.

Now he was just downstairs.

Denmark wasn't sure what he wanted to do, he knew he should call Sweden immediately so Berwald could tell the rest of the family. He also wanted to run downstairs and wrap Alfred in a hug, never letting go. He wanted to drag the American to the nearest airport and haul his ass to Sweden where their little family was staying. He wanted to punch England in the face and kick all the rest of the nations asses for hurting Alfred. However, he knew he couldn't do any of those things except call Sweden. It was obvious Alfred didn't remember them and that needed to be fixed soon. With shaking hands, he set the journal aside and looked at the other contents of the trunk.

There was a wool blanket, thick and heavy and blue all piled up on top of the other items. He knew what this was, of course. That was the only other thing Alfred had taken with him that day when he went exploring and never came back. The two objects were the blanket, this same one Finland made for him and young Alfred never let go of, and the wooden toy Sweden had made for him that the young boy never left behind. As he unfolded the blanket and felt the material between his fingers, Denmark looked into the chest once more. There at the bottom were a few redcoat toy soldiers, probably given to Alfred by England as a child, and a few other trinkets from his colonial days. Along with that wooden toy.

It was old, obviously, and very dirty. The wood looked worm and it was obvious that even after England got custody over Alfred that the young boy still played with it. Shaped like an eagle, as that had been Alfred's favorite animal even back then, there were several things wrong with it. A talon had been chipped off, the beak was missing, and the feathers merely ended in splinters. It was obvious this thing had gone through some hard times, but nonetheless Denmark slipped it in his pocket.

Sweden still liked to carve wood, maybe he could fix it up a little for Alfred.

* * *

_**A/N: Oh wow! Another chapter so soon! You guys reviewing gives me so much fuel to write, keep it up! :)**_

_**Question of the Chapter: Will Alfred catch Denmark? How will all the Nordics react when Denmark calls them? How will Alfred react when he finds all this out? What do you think England will say when he finds out he wasn't the first to discover Alfred?**_

_**TRANSLATIONS (Sorry if they're off, I use Google Translate!):**_

_**Swedish~**_

**_"__Kära Bok,_**

**_Storebror England sa till mig att öva mitt skrivande här. Jag tror att han försöker lära mig engelska, men jag vet inte vad som är fel med pappas språk. Han vill också att jag ska kalla honom pappa, men han är inte pappa, så jag kommer inte. Jag saknar mina farbröder och föräldrar, men storebror England är trevligt också, antar jag. Jag bara verkligen vill ha min familj tillbaka._**

**_Undertecknat,_ _Alfred Oxenstierna (Broder England sa mitt efternamn är Kirkland nu, men jag gillar fortfarande pappas namn bättre så jag ska använda det.)"_**

**_"Dear Journal,  
_****_  
Big Brother England told me to practice my writing here. I think he's trying to teach me English, but I don't know what's wrong with Daddy's language. He also wants me to call him Father, but he's not my dad, so I won't. I miss my uncles and parents, but Big Brother England is nice too, I guess. I just really want my family back._**

**_Signed,_**  
**_Alfred Oxenstierna (Brother England said my last name is Kirkland now, but I still like my father's name better so I'll use it.)"_**


	9. Christmas Wishes

**_Chapter 9: Christmas Wishes_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

* * *

Quickly placing the items back in the chest, except the journal because he knew they'd need that, Denmark rushed to leave the attic. He didn't want to test his luck with America's hangover induced sleep habits. If the other blonde woke up and found Denmark snooping then the Dane was pretty sure he wouldn't get a chance to tell the others. After all, back in the days, America's freak outs usually ended in threats of nuclear warfare. Denmark didn't feel like getting blown up by his baby brother, so he'd rather not have the American find out he was up here. Closing the latch door as he slipped out of the room of memories, Denmark quickly rushed downstairs. Dialing Sweden's number, he began to rush the words out as soon as Berwald answered.

"It's him, Berwald! I found a journal with his name, the blanket, the eagle, I know it's him-!" Denmark's words left at a rapid pace

"What 're you talkin' 'bout?" Sweden spoke in his broken speech, curious as to what got the Danish man so worked up

"Alfred." Denmark spoke firmly, "America is Alfred."

It was silent for a long time, "You're n't funny, Matthias."

"I'm not trying to be funny!" Denmark insisted, "I found a journal that said Alfred Kirkland and he had written in it. The first note was in Swedish and the second in broken English, like he was just learning. He ad the eagle, Berwald, the same one you made him as a kid. He had the blanket Tino made for him, the one he always carried around. He knows Finnish and Swedish and I'm sure he also knows Danish, Icelandic, and Norwegian. America is Alfred."

"Wh't do we need to do?"

"Just hurry the hell up and get here. I think he's remembering and I have a journal to prove all of it when you guys get here."

* * *

_"Storebror Emil, hva er det__?" The Norwegian fell from his lips rapidly_

_Alfred was on his tip toes, barely able to read the words of Norway's magic book. The white blonde nation looked down at his little brother and the barest hints of a smile came into place. _

_"Du er interessert i magi, lillebror?" Norway asked as her lifted Alfred onto his lap_

_Alfred watched, his attention focused on the spells neatly printed on the yellowing pages of the book. Norway spoke the magical words slowly, helping Alfred repeat the complex phrases. Alfred could feel his tounge trip up on the long Norwegian phrases he knew he would have no trouble with now, but this was the past. Norway nodded in approval when Alfred's younger self spoke the words correctly and chuckled lightly when he completely messed them up. _

_"Kan du lære meg?" Alfred could feel the curiosity and thirst for more knowledge of this magic his older brother specialized in._

_Norway nodded in acceptance, "Selvfølgelig, jeg er glad for at du er interessert. De fleste tror magi sinnsyk." _

_America could still feel the wide grin on his lips as the scene began to morph and change. He was older now, maybe seven instead of three or four. England sat with a book in his lap, reading quietly as Alfred practiced his writing. He still wanted to write in his fathers language, so sometimes he mixed Swedish and English together and it came out a weird, messed up jumble of the two languages. Even when he didn't try to write in another language, Alfred's handwriting was messy. His mother and father hadn't really cared about how neat his writing was, so long as he could simply write in all five languages of the Nordics. England, however, was a neat freak and insisted he have perfect handwriting._

_Bored, Alfred looked up at his big brother, "Hey, England, whatcha reading?"_

_"Alfred." Arthur frowned, "It is what are you reading, not whatever it was you said. If you must know, though, it's my spell book."_

_"Spells?" Alfred's ears seemed to perk up at the familiar word, "Like magic spells?"_

_England could see the interest and familiarity in the young colony's blue eyes. Raising an eyebrow, Arthur wondered if wherever his beloved little brother came from there was magic? He certainly hoped so, maybe if the child had already been exposed to it he wouldn't think Arthur was insane when the older man tried to explain it. Smiling, England nodded and lifted Alfred up onto his lap so the boy could see better. He watched as Alfred's eyes widened in recognition and what he thought was happiness. Almost giddy with excitement at the thought of having an apprentice, Arthur quickly spoke up._

_"I could teach you if you'd like, lad!"_

_Eyes widening, America felt his head turn sharply and could feel the boys thoughts sadden as he muttered, "Storebror Norge..."_

_Frowning, Arthur noticed the change in Alfred's demeanor, "What was that? You need to speak up, I've told you before not to mumble."_

_"I-I said no, it's okay." Alfred quickly leapt down from England's lap, "I'm gonna go play in the yard!"_

_England watched him go, not bothering to correct his grammar this time. With that, Alfred began to regain consciousness._

* * *

Alfred sat up and rubbed his eyes, yawning. Quickly he fumbled out of bed, rubbing his head and really wishing those dreams would stop. It was like they were taunting him, telling him how much he wished he had a family on Christmas. He would, of course, if Canada or France or England bothered to even consider him in their plans. No, they usually got together and celebrated without him. Sighing, Alfred shook his head, If he could wish one this this Christmas, it was that he would have people who cared about him like he did only in his dreams.

* * *

_**A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR! Can't believe I've been on this site for so long, though I've only recently really started to write stories! Thank you all so much for the continued support!**_

_**Question of the Chapter: How should the Nordics confront Alfred? What will Alfred's reaction be when they do?**_

_**TRANSLATIONS (Sorry if they're off, I use Google Translate!):**_

_**Norwegian~**_

_**"Storebror Emil, hva er det?" - "Big brother Emil, what is that?"**_

_**"Du er interessert i magi, lillebror?" - "You are interested in magic, little brother?"**_

_**"Kan du lære meg?" - "Can you teach me?"**_

_**"Selvfølgelig, jeg er glad for at du er interessert. De fleste tror magi sinnsyk." - "Of course, I am glad you are interested. Most people think magic is insane."**_

_**"Storebror Norge..." - "Big brother Norway..."**_


	10. The Nordics Arrive

**_Chapter 10: The Nordics Arrive_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

* * *

America trudged down the stairs, feeling like absolute crap. He walked down right as Denmark hung up the phone, raising his eyebrow in curiosity. The Dane was probably booking his flight home now, even though there was a meeting in a week or so. The last meeting before Christmas. Maybe if he begged enough, Mattie would let him go over to his house along with France and England. Sitting down on the couch parallel to Denmark, America sighed before rubbing his eyes.

"So, booking a flight home?" Alfred asked, wondering if he still had coffee in the kitchen or if he needed to buy more

"Nope!" Denmark smiled widely, making Alfred look at him in confusion, "The rest of the Nordics are coming over!"

"Why?" Alfred glanced up, blue eyes confused

"Um, well, the planes in the airport are...um, the only flight to Sweden was cancelled!" Denmark nodded, "Yeah, so they said they'd come on over since they could get a plane to come to New York!"

"Really?" Alfred looked doubtful, "There is only _one _plane in all of the many airports in New York to Sweden and it's cancelled?"

"Yes...?" Denmark wilted, realizing Alfred probably recognized the lie

"Right." America drew out the word, "So you're all just going to stay for the upcoming meeting?"

"Yes!" The Dane grabbed the shovel and started digging himself out of the hole, "Yeah, that's it! I figured it would be stupid to go home when I'll just have to come back in...how far away is the meeting?"

"A week, I think." Alfred grabbed his cellphone of the side table by his couch and looked at the calendar on it, "Yeah, it's in a week."

"See, by the time I got the Sweden's house, I'd just be getting on a plane to come back right away. They just decided to fly out a little early. You don't mind them hanging out here, right?"

"Nope!" Alfred grinned slightly in excitement and laughed, "It'd be fun to finally have some people to hang out with during the holiday season, even if it's not Christmas day!"

Denmark's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Don't you spend Christmas with that Canadia guy, England, and France?"

"It's Canada." Alfred quickly corrected him, "Besides, England and France usually go over to Canada's house for the holidays."

"You don't?" The spiky haired nation raised an eyebrow

"Nah." Alfred shrugged, looking down, "I mean, I've forced my way in before, but you can tell when you're not wanted. I usually watch Christmas movies or hang out in Central Park on Christmas."

Denmark felt rage well up inside him, the kind that he hadn't felt in years. The same rage he felt when Alfred had been stolen away from the Nordics. How dare those _assholes _who called themselves Alfred's family not even include him during the holidays. If Alfred loved Christmas half as much as Finland did, that would be heartbreaking for the boy.

"So." Denmark took a deep breathe, putting on a calm façade, "You make it sound like you're always in New York on Christmas."

Alfred's blue eyes lit up, "Oh yeah, always! New York has the most beautiful Christmas decorations! The Christmas tree is my favorite, but all around the city they put up decorations! The shops on the days leading up to Christmas are filled with great gifts, though I never wait that long! I usually by mine sometime in August to September, depends on if I'm busy or not! I usually mail gifts unless I'm close to the person, like I am Canada and Mexico! Then I deliver them personally the day after Christmas so I don't interrupt their celebrating!"

There was no doubt in Denmark's mind that this was Finland's child. Absolutely none.

"That's nice." Denmark snorted, "Finland is basically freaking Santa Claus during the holiday season!"

Alfred's eyes popped out of his head, "Seriously? I'll get to meet him, right?"

Chuckling lightly at Alfred's enthusiasm, Denmark wondered if Alfred realized Finland wasn't actually Santa Claus and that he was making a joke. As the Dane watched the absolute excitement that covered Alfred's face when the Danish man nodded yes, the Nordic country couldn't bring himself to tell America otherwise. That smile he saw for the briefest moment was so happy, so pure, and so unlike those now so obviously fake ones everyone usually saw on his face, it made Denmark want to grab the American and squeeze him to death.

They sat there talking for a few more hours when Denmark proposed another question, "I wonder how long it'll take everyone to get here?"

Instantly, America began to think, "Well, probably a day or so to get the flight booked and then eight hours, varying a few minutes, to get from Sweden to New York."

The Dane raised his eyebrows in surprise, "I didn't know you knew that kind of stuff."

Alfred laughed, "I know how long it takes to get from my main cities to a lot of countries. I didn't mean to memorize it, it just kind of happened."

Snorting in disbelief, Denmark shook his head. His baby brother sure knew everything about anything. Now, if only Alfred would use that knowledge at the World meetings, then he'd shut everyone up for good.

* * *

In the end, America had been right. Denmark had gotten a call from Sweden only a few days later telling him they had booked their flights and that they should land in about seven to eight hours. The Dane had stolen, er, barrowed Alfred's car the day they were to arrive while the other country was asleep to drive to the airport and pick up his family. When he spotted them in the airport he had quickly rushed over and, before Finland could even launch into the millions of questions he had, Denmark pulled out the eagle toy and journal. Shoving the toy in Sweden's hands and the journal in Finland's, the Dane stepped back and watched as his family looked over the two objects. Finland began to tear up when he read a few entries in the journal and when they all nodded and confirmed that, yes, they too thought America was Alfred everything just went to hell.

"We have to tell him!" Finland insisted fiercely, "I will not have my son go without knowing who his real family is for another moment!"

"Think about it, though." Norway spoke up, hiding his strong emotions behind an emotionless face, "If we tell him now, he'll just be freaked out. Obviously he doesn't remember us."

"Or he does and just doesn't want us around." Iceland spoke up quietly, looking quite sad at the thought

"No." Denmark shook his head, "I can tell, he doesn't know a thing about us raising him."

"Then we need to remind him!" Finland frowned, "You can't be suggesting we just leave things as is!"

"No!" Denmark huffed, "Everyone treats him like shit, he told me that while England and France go to Canadia's for Christmas, he's not invited. He spends it _alone_. We need to fix things like that!"

"His name is Canada." Norway sighed, shaking his head

"I don't care what his name is!" Finland snapped, looking downright pissed off, "Those _huono tekosyitä eläviä olentoja _let my _poikavauva_ spend _Joulu _alone!"

Sweden, meanwhile, had the same stoic expression as always. Well, as Denmark looked closer, it wasn't his usual expression. No, his blue eyes were downright evil and Denmark honestly feared for some people's health.

As Finland's speech slowly turned from normal, angry English to very angry Finnish, Denmark just seemed to realize what he had set upon the countries of the world. There was Iceland, who was normally calm but very hot blooded when you made him mad. Then Norway, obviously he had magic, very scary magic that Denmark had been on the wrong side of many times. Finland was just...downright terrifying when you made him as mad as he was now. Then there was Sweden who could probably make Russia piss his pants when angry enough. Yeah, the world was screwed.

* * *

_**A/N: Okay, Christmas will come soon enough, even if it's late here, but I'm having a bit of writers block. I'm really sorry if this chapter wasn't up to par, I rewrote it at least five times, if not more. I'm still not completely happy with it, but I think getting some ideas from you guys will help. Again, I'm sorry!**_

_**Question of the Chapter: How do the Nordics act when they meet Alfred for the first time? How does Alfred react to the Nordics? How should the next world meeting before Christmas go down? How will England, France, and Canada react to the Nordics and Alfred?**_

_**TRANSLATIONS (Sorry if they're off, I use Google Translate!):**_

_**Finnish~**_

**_"Huono tekosyitä eläviä olentoja" - "Poor excuses for living beings"_**

**_"Poikavauva" - "Baby boy"_**

**_"Joulu" - "Christmas"_**


	11. The Nordic Six?

**_Chapter 11: The Nordic...Six?_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

* * *

The Nordics pulled up to Alfred's house about an hour later, their luggage in the trunk and feeling exhausted. That airport was horribly busy and, frankly, Denmark felt like pulling his hair out. So, needless to say, he was very thankful they'd finally gotten out of that hell hole. He never did like airports, anyways. Hopping out of the car, he swung the door shut and went back to help Sweden with the luggage. Finland seemed to be on edge, a mixture of hope and disbelief in his eyes. Denmark could understand, he hadn't believed the possibility that America was Alfred at first either, but now they had irrevocable evidence of it.

"You're the one that stole my car!" An exasperated voice came from the door

There stood America, dressed in a simple outfit of jeans and a blue T-shirt with no bomber jacket, looking relived and slightly angry. He quickly rushed out from the house and checked his car over before nodding to himself. Mutters of 'you're lucky there are no dents' and 'one scratch and I swear to god' were heard as he turned to look at the Nordic family.

"Hey! Nice to see you all again!" America smiled widely, teeth showing

Finland's eyes were wide as he looked at the young nation. It was quite obvious, know that he thought about it, that America was Alfred. Sure, he was a lot tanner nowadays, but other than that he was so much like that little boy they had raised. The same hair that he shared with Finland, and America definitely had Sweden and Denmark's eyes. That smile was even the same as Alfred's was oh so long ago. Resisting the urge to tackle him in a hug, Finland forced a polite smile and greeted the American with the rest of his family.

"It's almost Christmas, so I'm sorry if boxes are kinda everywhere!" Alfred laughed sheepishly as he led the Nordics into his house, "I always decorate for Christmas, but a bunch of things came up, so I haven't gotten to decorate yet!"

As Finland set his luggage down, he smiled softly and put his hand on Alfred's arm, a parental look in his eyes, "Maybe after the meeting we can help you decorate for the occasion. Christmas is my favorite holiday, after all."

Alfred's eyes lit up like a child's as the other Nordics nodded in agreement, a warm feeling spreading through him at the kindness showed to him, "Really? That's awesome! My favorite holiday is Christmas, too! Thanks, Finland!"

The blonde man shook his head and smiled, "Call me Tino."

Alfred froze, blinking with wide eyes. Nations rarely trusted other nations with their human names, it was something saved for a family like bond. Opening his mouth and then, he realized, how could he respond to that? Smiling hesitantly, Alfred was about to say a shaky thank you when the other Nordics began to speak.

"Berwald." Sweden grunted, nodding at America

"Emil." Iceland spoke up, smiling softly

"Lukas." Norway's face was emotionless, but his eyes showed happiness

"My name's Matthias!" Denmark practically shouted, seemingly excited at the turn of events

If Alfred was stunned before, he was going into complete shock now. There was only one thing he could think of to repay that kindness, that trust that they crazily put in him.

"My name is Alfred F. Jones!" America smiled the brightest, most natural smile he had in awhile

Finland's eyes widened, and his lips trembled slightly. Grabbing Alfred in a hug, Tino wrapped his arms around Alfred like a parent would a child. Now, Alfred simply blinked in confusion, smiling nonetheless. Seeing that Finland seemingly got very emotional very quickly, Alfred was quick to try and make him feel better even if he didn't understand why the nation was upset.

"It's okay, dude." America laughed, "It was the least I could do for what you guys just did. If you trust me that much, I don't see why I can't trust you!"

Yes, Alfred knew there were many reasons why he shouldn't trust people. They could turn around and stab him in the back, gain his trust and take him down from the inside. However, as he looked at the Nordics, he was reminded of those dreams where they were a family. Family doesn't betray each other, right? _Stupid_, Alfred chastised himself in his head, _they're not actually you're family. You're delusional._

Denmark, meanwhile, shook his head. Despite being a bit smarter than anyone ever expected, the kid still had a little bit to learn.

* * *

The meeting rapidly approached and, before anyone knew it, they were getting up and getting dressed to head down to the meeting hall. The days had passed so quickly, and so much had been done. Alfred had taken the Nordics out shopping, showing them his stores and buying extra Christmas presents along with Tino. Another day Finland and America had both collaborated and made sugar cookies from scratch and then made a mess of the kitchen when they decorated them. Another day Berwald and Alfred had sat down and watched cheesy Christmas movies all morning while everyone else was still asleep from staying up late. Board games, general craziness, and all around fun that made Alfred really wish he was a part of their little group.

Standing in front of the doors to the conference room, all the Nordics insisted Alfred stay with them in their little group. Whether it was just a look telling him to stay put, like Berwald did, or if someone grabbed his arm anytime he tried to leave, like Tino did. Opening the doors, Alfred quickly counted the seats where the Nordics usually sat and shook his head.

"There aren't enough seats." Alfred sighed

"What?" Finland did a quick count, "There are six seats. Exactly enough for all of us."

Eyebrows furrowing, America still looked concerned, "What if Sealand comes this time? The only other seat is beside _Russia_."

"So? He's a kid, I doubt Russia will bother him." Denmark shrugged

"Don't say that!" Finland hissed, "Besides, I doubt Peter will be here. England very rarely lets him come to meetings. Unless...unless you would prefer to sit by Russia?"

Denmark snorted, "Who'd voluntarily sit by _Russia_? Everyone knows he's got evil plans to pick us all off, one by one, no matter who it is or who people like."

Alfred laughed a little, "What is this, Game of Thrones? Cause if it is, I'll be Daenerys and kick his ass!"

At the blank stares, he shrugged, "It's a show based of the book series A Song of Ice and Fire by an American novelist George R. R. Martin!"

"Who's...Dinosaurs?"

Alfred shook his head, "Not Dinosaurs, Daenerys! She's really badass!"

"Okay." Finland nodded slowly, "Anyways, I doubt Sealand will be here, so you can just sit with us."

"Gotcha!" America smiled widely, "I usually sit between England and Canada, but I'm sure they won't miss me!"

With that, the group of six sat down beside each other and forgot all about America's interesting choices of books and television shows. Waiting for the meeting to begin, America struck up a conversation with Finland and Norway, who he was setting in between. Soon enough Iceland and Denmark got involved in the discussion with occasional inputs from Sweden. None of them noticed the annoyed looks they got from England, Canada, and France as the Nordics and America were just enjoying each others company.

* * *

_**A/N: Had a bit of trouble with this one two, writers block is still kicking my butt to next week, but I hope you enjoy! **_

_**Question of the Chapter: What will happen when the meeting starts?**_

_**TRANSLATIONS (Sorry if they're off, I use Google Translate!):**_

_**NONE!**_


	12. A Real Family

**_Chapter 12: A Real Family_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

* * *

Germany stood at the front of the meeting room, PowerPoint behind him, opening up the topic of Global Warming _again_. Alfred sighed inside his head, nearly putting away his notepad. He wouldn't have to take notes, no, because he had already memorized every piece of information possible about this subject from the other hundred times it was presented. Leaning his head on his hand, he still made an effort to pay attention like everyone else, but it was just so boring. He heard a cough and looked up to see Denmark, who was sitting one seat over, rolling his eyes then proceeding to mimic Germany. He saw Norway raise one eyebrow at the Danish man, but other than that Lukas completely ignored Matthias. America bit his lip in an attempt to stifle the laugh that wanted to come out, he knew it was childish but the Dane's face was hilarious.

Sadly for Alfred, Germany had super hearing.

"America!" A sharp yell came from the tall, blonde man in the front, "This is an important matter! Now is not the time to be laughing and joking around, take this seriously!"

Alfred's mouth popped open, "I wasn't-!"

"I suppose we cannot blame him." Russia smiled calmly, "He is an overgrown child after all, da?"

America's eyes narrowed, the lively blue color turning cold as ice when he regarded Russia, "Want to say that again, you damn Commie?"

"I said you are an overgrown child!" The tall Russian's smile was out full force, creepy as ever

Huffing, Alfred glared at the violet eyed man, "Yeah, well, you're just a-!"

"Goodness, America, seriously!" England sighed sharply, interrupting Alfred's response, "I would think I raised you better. You always do the stupidest bloody things! A meeting is not the time or the place to start an argument."

Alfred raised an eyebrow, "Says the man who nearly strangles France every hour."

"You little brat!" England sputtered, "How dare you speak to the man that raised you in such a manner!"

France, who was sitting beside Canada, sighed, "He wouldn't have turned out that way if I had raised him."

"Hey!" Alfred frowned, "What's wrong with me?"

"Shut it, you frog!" England huffed, "No matter who raised him, he would be the same. There are some things even the best parental guidance can't fix."

"Wait a minute." Denmark narrowed his eyes, "That's going a bit overboard."

The Englishman sniffed, "Well, what else could it be? He had a good family growing up and he still turned out like this."

"Who was this 'good family'?" Denmark glared, "You and whatever villagers you left him with whenever you were gone for years at a time?"

England's mouth dropped open, "You have no right-!"

"Yeah." America nodded, smiling, "Pretty much."

Arthur's gaze burned as he looked at Alfred, "I gave you a good childhood."

Iceland glanced at Norway, whispering, "Obviously not. There was a whole revolution over it."

Luckily England didn't hear it, because if he had things would have started to be thrown and many curse words would've been used. He was still a bit sore on the subject of the American Revolution.

"I think it's time to break for lunch." Germany sighed, seeing there was no point at trying to reign the meeting back in, "Everyone, be back in exactly one hour. If you are not here, the meeting will continue without you."

Denmark and England didn't hear the announcement or notice when other nations began to leave the room, as they were too busy glaring at each other.

"I gave him the best childhood he could have." England spoke scathingly, temper flaring, "It's not my fault he didn't do anything good enough to be considered family. Even France and...the other one...have done more than he has!"

America's eyes snapped open, the startling blue color turning dark as his mood diminished. Swallowing, he looked down at his hands and tried to hide the tears that flooded his eyes, wishing he was anywhere else but there at the moment. England didn't want him, France didn't either, and Mattie probably wasn't the proudest sibling, so what did he have left? All of a sudden, a heavy hand rested on his shoulder. Looking up, he was startled to see Sweden standing behind him with Finland, both glaring at England intensely. Looking over, he saw Denmark holding the axe he somehow gets past security tightly and looking every bit the Viking he used to be. Norway was glaring, the air around him seeming to crackle as he stared at England, daring him to say another word with his eyes. Iceland's face was twisted into a glare as he gave England a nasty look.

"Family." Finland's voice was ice, "A family does not include or exclude someone for what they have done. The love is unconditional."

England looked down at America, seeing how torn up the North American country was, and sighing in frustration. He knew, deep down, what he had said was uncalled for. Honestly, he felt a bit bad that he'd upset the boy that much. However, didn't the obnoxious nation have it coming? Always being loud and interrupting things, England was bound to snap, America _must _have realized that.

"Yes, yes." England waved what Finland had said off before focusing on America, "Now come on, lad. Belt up and come along. Your brother, France, and I are going for lunch. You can even get some of that greasy garbage if it pleases you that much."

America looked up, feeling the weight of Sweden's hand and the presence of the Nordics that was somehow comforting, "No thanks."

"What?" England looked at him quizzically

"I said no thanks." Alfred spoke with more certainty, "I think I'll just stay with these guys."

Pursing his lips, England turned on his heel and walked out. France quickly followed him, Canada stopping a moment to look at his brother before leaving as well. It was only the six nations in the room now, five of them pissed off and one hanging his head once more.

"Do arguments like that happen a lot?" Finland asked quietly, sitting down beside Alfred as the other Nordics silently listened

"Yeah." America sighed, raising his head as the words began to spill out, spurred on by Finland's comforting voice, "I don't understand. I try to make him...I don't know..._proud_ I guess. It never works though. I think he's completely disowned me at this point, France and Canada too. I wouldn't be surprised if they deny any relation to me with how much I apparently disappoint them."

Finland smiled sadly, "That's their loss, then."

America snorted, turning his face away, "More like my loss and their gain. I don't even have a freaking family anymore, not like the Asian countries, or the Baltics, even Russia and his siblings."

Denmark looked at him seriously, "You could be part of our family."

Alfred's head snapped to him, confusion written on his face, "Why would you want me in you family?"

"Because." Denmark shrugged, not yet ready to reveal anything, "You're awesome."

As Alfred slowly nodded, a slight smile graced his lips, as he nodded. Still, even as Matthias smiled back, the Dane could see the doubt in America's eyes.

* * *

_**A/N: Rewrote this one a few times, and this is the version I'm happiest with so far. The Nordics are trying to get close to Alfred before revealing all this stuff. Also, regarding the question why doesn't Alfred remember the Nordics? Well, you'll just have to wait and find out ;) Hint, it has something to do with England's lesser magic skills and trying to teach America.**_

_**Question of the Chapter: Will Alfred remember the Nordics once he's told about his past?**_

_**TRANSLATIONS (Sorry if they're off, I use Google Translate!):**_

_**NONE!**_


	13. Only In My Dreams

**_Chapter 13: Only In My Dreams_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

**_NOTE: I am looking for translators in Finnish, Danish, Swedish, Norwegian, and Icelandic! I'm REALLY tired to using Google Translate and I hate that the readers who know the languages have to suffer through crappy translations! Please PM me if you're active on Fanfiction, as I hope to update more often and need a translator for some of the chapters, and wouldn't mind translating a lot. I just really hate using Google Translator, it make me feel like an absolute idiot and I'm sure the readers of the language don't like it too much either._**

* * *

_"Stór bróðir Emil? Getið þið hjálpað mér?" Alfred looked up, hope shining in blue eyes_

_"Auðvitað, lítið eitt. Hvað er það sem þú þarft hjálp við?" Iceland looked down curiously, eyeing the fake sword Alfred had in his hands_

_"Pabbi Svíþjóð gaf mér þetta sverð! Það er falsa, og sverð eru ekki eins flott og bróður Matthias öxi, en ég var að vona að þú gætir hjálpað mér? Mamma Finnland er hrædd Ég næ meiða, og pabbi er of upptekinn til að hjálpa mér!" The young boy waved around the wooden sword he had gotten from Sweden with a pout_

_Iceland laughed, nodding, "Auðvitað, lítit af! Ég er vandvirkur með sverði, það er satt. Ég geri ráð fyrir að þú þarft líka að vita hvernig á að vernda þig í þessu. Eins og sannur víkingur." _

_The blonde child jumped up, fist pumping. He then turned to Iceland and tackled him in a hug, yelling out appreciation while Iceland tried to get the child off him. The older nation turned and picked up the toy sword the young boy had abandoned and beckoned him over to a clear spot to begin instructions. Moving into a firm stance, Emil watched the child with a close eye. If he was going to teach the boy, he would teach him the correct way._

* * *

_Alfred sighed, tugging the furs around his shoulders close. It was cold where his family lived, but he found it almost comforting. The bitter winds, sharp as a whip, stormed outside and left Alfred stranded indoors. Äiti was away, and Pappa was carving wood. He had no idea where his brothers Matthias, Emil, and Lukas were but they were not currently at the house. They might have gone hunting, they might have been away on business. It happened all the time, but someone always stayed home with him. He appreciated it, he was sure to go insane if he were left alone in the cold and barren house._

_"Pappa, vad är det du gör?" Alfred spoke up finally, resting his head on his hand_

_"En örn." Sweden glanced up at his son for a moment, "Du kan ha den."_

_Alfred's eyes widened. He had always loved eagles, this was a known fact. He had admired the way they were free, their ability to just soar the skies with nothing holding them back. No chains, no boundaries. That was how he wanted to live when he grew to be an adult. His mother had told him it would be awhile until he was fully grown, his nation would have to grow and he would have to become stronger. Then he could be free._

_Smiling wide, Alfred slid off the wooden chair, abandoning his furs in favor of running to his father, "Tack, pappa!"_

_Alfred hugged the large man, made easy by the fact that he was sitting on a stool. Sweden's eyes widened momentarily and Alfred became very aware of the knife poking him in the stomach. All of a sudden he was pushed back and his father was holding his shoulders while he was looked over. The knife had not even broken the thick fabric of his blue tunic, so the child did not know why his father was freaking out so much. Sweden sighed, sitting back down on his stool and picked up the wooden eagle he had thrown on the floor in his fear. Quickly chipping off unwanted pieces of wood, Berwald was quickly done with it and turned his eyes to Alfred's eager ones._

_"Här." The Swedish man held out the wooden toy, happiness showing in his eyes but his face stoic as ever_

_Alfred grinned, taking the toy gingerly. Looking up at his father, Alfred hugged him cautiously. Sweden wrapped one arm around Alfred, setting down the knife he held in his other hand, before he hugged his son back._

* * *

Alfred eyes opened, though he remained lying down. Taking a deep breath, Alfred told himself it was the stress. He was in charge of a major meeting and with his fighting with England, France, and Canada he was bound to be stressed. Deep down, though, he was scared. Was he so lonely he made up a fake past? It had been so real, though, like he was there and looking through the eyes of this child that was supposed to be him. Sighing, America swung his feet off the bed and let them hit the cold floor. Elbows on his knees, America rested his head in his hands and stared at the ground.

The meeting had just gone to hell after his and England's fight. Everyone kept glancing at him, whispering behind his back in curiosity. France and England glared at him the whole time, and Canada refused to even look at him. Sighing, he looked at the clock and groaned as he saw it was only three in the morning. Flopping back on the bed, he thanked his lucky stars that there was only one more day of this hell disguised as a meeting.

* * *

_**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I had school killing me, and testing is next week so I'm really excited about that (insert eye roll)! Anyways, next chapter is the rest of the meeting, then Christmas (which is funny cause that was two months ago)!**_

_**Question of the Chapter: Did you notice Alfred has stopped calling Canada Mattie in his thoughts? Do you think he's doing it purposefully, or that he's just slowly growing apart from them? Also, what do you think of Alfred's relationship with Iceland and Sweden from the memories?**_

_**TRANSLATIONS (Sorry if they're off, I use Google Translate though I hope this is the last time for that!):**_

_**ICELANDIC~**_

**_"Stór bróðir Emil? Getið þið hjálpað mér?" - "Big brother Emil? Can you help me something?"_**

_**"Auðvitað,** **lítið eitt. Hvað er það sem þú þarft hjálp við?" - "Of course, little one. What do you need help with?"**_

**_"_**_**Pabbi**** Svíþjóð gaf mér þetta sverð! Það er falsa, og sverð eru ekki eins flott og bróður Matthias öxi, en ég var að vona að þú gætir hjálpað mér? Mamma Finnland er hrædd Ég næ meiða, og pabbi er of upptekinn til að hjálpa mér!" - "Daddy Sweden made me this sword! It's fake, and** not** as cool as Brother Matthias's axe, but I was hoping you could help me? Momma Finland is scared I'll get hurt, but I know you're good with swords!"**_

_**"Auðvitað, ****lítit af****! Ég er vandvirkur með sverði, það er satt. Ég geri ráð fyrir að þú þarft líka að vita hvernig á að vernda þig í þessu. Eins og sannur víkingur." - ****"Of course, little one! I am proficient with the sword, it is true. I suppose that you also need to know how to protect yourself in this world. Like a true Viking."**_

_**FINNISH~**_

**_"Äiti" - "Mom"_**

**_SWEDISH~_**

**_"Pappa" - "Dad"_**

_**"Pappa, vad är det du gör?" - "Dad, what are you making?"**_

_**"En örn." - "An eagle."**_

_**"Du kan ha den." - "You can have it if you want."**_

**_"Tack, pappa!" - "Thank you, dad!"_**

_**"Här." - "Here."**_


	14. No, They're Family

**_Chapter 14: No, They're Family_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

**_NOTE: Thanks to Quarter-blood99, Englandrules83, Lovyan, and purpal'ice! They offered to be translators, so they're awesome for doing that! I'm slowly revising previous chapters and making new ones, but it's going slowly because of state testing and nine week finals. They're pretty big tests so ninety percent of my free time now goes to studying! They'll be over in the next to weeks, though, so I promise things will pick up then! ALSO I still need a translator for Icelandic though, so if you could translate for Icelandic please PM me!_**

* * *

Alfred sat by the Nordics once more at the meeting, trying to ignore other countries curious glances and the way England, France, and Canada all refused to look at him. Not even a sideways glance in his direction, nothing! It was horrible of him to think, but did they really not miss him that much? Or did they even notice he was gone? Sitting between Sweden and Denmark today, Alfred rested his head against his hand and glanced at the clock waiting for the lunch break. He had been in such a rush this morning, being woken up by Finland last minute as dreams had kept him up all night and, when he'd finally fell into a restful sleep, he had been out like a light. So breakfast hadn't been an option because, while he was fine with sometimes being late himself, he wasn't about to make other countries late because of his stomach.

Finally, when the break was called, the Nordics stood and offered Alfred lunch. They were going to some restaurant down the street, a little family run place which was quite unusual in a big city like New York.

"Yeah, sure! You guys go ahead, I just gotta get my stuff! It's kind of all over the place!" Alfred laughed slightly

"We can wait for you if you want?" Finland asked, smiling kindly

"Nah, go ahead and get seats! I know what place you're talking about, I'll be there in a bit!" Alfred began to gather up papers

"If you're sure you don't need any help..." Finland raised an eyebrow

"I've got it!"

Alfred appreciated the fact that they cared so much, and it left a smile on his face as he gathered up the notes. Was this hat it felt like to have a real, caring family? Cause if it was, the Alfred wished he could go back in time and tell himself to hang out with the Nordics sooner. Maybe then holidays wouldn't be so lonely and birthdays would actually mean something with people who cared about him celebrating. Sure, nations went to his huge birthday parties, but not because they cared that Alfred's nation was one year older. That Alfred had made it through another year, basically healthy and pretty much happy. No, it was all about the alcohol or the cake. Some liked the fireworks, some liked socializing with friends they knew. It was never all about America, despite the fact that it was the Fourth of July. Then there was the fact that, after years of begging on Alfred's part, England had finally started coming to his birthday parties. However all the Englishman did was get piss drunk and start cursing out Alfred.

Even though Alfred knew England always felt bad about it later, the American still didn't appreciate being called a 'bloody good for nothing, selfish wanker' on his birthday. Not the best self esteem booster.

Shoving the last of his notes into his folder, America rushed to pick everything up and get out of the meeting room and meet the Nordics at the restaurant. Spinning around, he came face to face with his own brother instead of the door. Taking a step back and laughing, Alfred noticed Canada's annoyed expression and wondered what was wrong. America swore if Russia had sat on Canada again, the American had plenty of guns, national relations be damned.

"Hey, Canada!" Alfred smiled, "I didn't hear you! I swear you're like a ninja sometimes!"

Matthew, instead of laughing like his brother way, noted the way Alfred had addressed him as Canada instead of Matt or Mattie. Frowning, Canada narrowed his eyes at his brother.

"Why didn't you sit with us today?" Canada spoke as quiet as ever, but the underlying tone of annoyance set of alarms in Alfred's head

"Well, the Nordics have been staying at my place and I figured I'd sit with them for this meeting-!" Alfred was cut off by the Canadian

"Wait. You let them stay at your house and leave France, England, and I to sleep in hotels?"

America frowned, a little annoyed, "You guys never _want _to stay at my place. Just like you never want me at _your _houses."

"You're welcome at my house anytime, Al. You know that." Matthew sighed, shaking his head slightly

Flinching back, Alfred looked at his brother like he'd been slapped, "Then why do you always yell at me to get out?"

Canada frowned deeply, getting ready to protest, but America cut him off, "I have plans with the Nordics. I gotta go! See you later bro!"

* * *

Coming up to the little diner, Alfred smiled at the delicious smells that wafted out into the street. It was sort of a hole in the wall place, not real popular but they made some of the best food. The Nordics probably found it at one of the previous meetings in New York, as the restaurant had been there for quite some time, or they'd heard Alfred gush about it when he went into tour guide mode. It happened sometimes when he had visiting nations in his home, he would just rattle off facts about wherever in the USA the meeting took place and tell all about the best places to get food and some of the local attractions. This place was one of his favorites, so it wouldn't surprise him if he'd talked about it during one of those instances.

As he walked in, the aroma of the food instantly made him forget about his little squabble with Canada earlier. The woman at the front desk greeted him kindly, smiling and recognizing him as a regular.

"Hello, Mr. Jones! How's your day been?" The woman spoke with a strong Brooklyn accent

"Pretty good." Alfred smiled back, "This place been busy?"

"It never is!" The woman smiled and shook her head, taking a pen out of her pocket, "So, what do you want? Table or booth?"

"Some friends of mine came in here earlier, a party of fiver?" Alfred watched as recognition lit up her eyes

"Yeah, yeah!" She smiled and nodded, "I remember them! How could I not, we rarely get groups that big. Last name Oxenstierna?"

Alfred inwardly cringed as the woman butchered what he guessed was Sweden's last name. Then again, it was Swedish, so he couldn't blame her. If he didn't, somehow, know the Nordic languages then he would probably mess it up as well.

"Yup!" Alfred popped the p, "That would be them!"

"Great! They're back here, sweetie, so just follow me!"

Alfred followed the woman back to the table. When the five Nordics came into his view, he saw Matthias jump up and wave his hands around, attempting to grab Alfred's attention. Fighting back a snort, Alfred watched in amusement as Norway jerked the Danish man back into his seat and whacked him upside the head for good measure. As Finland frowned at them and Sweden and Iceland simply rolled their eyes, the waitress looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Interesting family you got there." She said with a dry smile

"Family?" Alfred's eyes snapped over to her

"Yeah." She nodded, looking at him curiously, "You can't tell me you're not related? You all look so much alike!"

"No." Alfred shook his head, a warmth blossoming in his chest as he almost willed the woman's words to be true, "You could say they're basically my family."

* * *

_**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! School (i.e. state tests and nine week exams/finals) is killing me. So, it seemed like people notice the similarities between the Nordics and Alfred. Also, Alfred thinks of them as family! We get Christmas next chapter after the meetings over and Alfred may or may not slip up and call Sweden dad or Finland mom ;)**_

_**Sorry if this wasn't the best, I'm currently writing this at 11 PM and I'm sleep deprived.**_

_**Question of the Chapter: Is Canada justified in his little speech? Was it way out of line? Or is Canada just afraid of loosing his brother? What will the Nordics say when they find out about it?**_

_**TRANSLATIONS:**_

_**NONE!**_


	15. Family and Borthers

**_Chapter 15: Family and Brothers _**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

**_NOTE: I'm working on getting the translating thing worked out! If I contacted you about being a translator, expect a PM very soon! Im just really busy with 4H, school, band, and guitar classes (which are separate from band because they're after school every day, except Sundays). So just bear with me guys, I'm trying. I promise :) If you have any questions, please PM me and be POLITE. Thank you!_**

* * *

Alfred, still smiling, sat down with the five nations. Denmark on one side, Iceland on the other, he felt welcome in a way he hadn't for a long time sitting there with the five Nordics. Finland looked over at him and smiles, violet eyes warm and parental. There was a silent question passed from the Finnish man to the America, asking if he was fine. America nodded slightly back, forgetting all about his confrontation with Canada. Everything blurred by from their, a jumbled mess of laughter and an all around good time; the delicious food was a plus. At some point during the meal, Denmark thought it would be a good idea to launch a piece of fish at Norway which prompted the normally stoic nation to choke Matthias with his tie once more. Not surprised by their antics anymore, America simply laughed as Denmark went blue in the face before Norway released the Danish man. Matthias simply laughed loudly as always, pulling Alfred into a hug and giving him a noogie for his laughter. When the group left it was time to go back to the meeting, though that was something Alfred wished he could postpone.

When they entered the meeting room again, they were a bit late and Alfred noticed something wrong. India, who had not been in attendance for the first half of the meeting, was now sitting down. Of course, America had no problem with that at all! India was a very kind woman and he was glad that she had been able to finally get to the meeting hall. He knew first hand how terrible New York traffic was, and sometimes you couldn't catch planes early enough when travelling from two different countries. The only issue he had was that she sat in what used to be his seat by the Nordics and that meant the only available seat was now between England and Canada.

The Nordics noticed this too, it seemed, because Finland turned to America with a concerned expression, "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah, totally!" Alfred fixed a false smile to his face, "See you after the meeting!"

It felt like he was walking to his death as he went for the chair between his former caregiver and Canada. Abruptly pausing in his thoughts, he questioned himself as to when England quit being his father and became his _former caregiver_? Probably when he basically disowned America infront of everyone. When he pulled out the chair, he saw Canada smile at him and, despite bickering sometimes, he supposed Canada was still his brother. Alfred smiled back and, though it was a little strained, there was real happiness behind it. He was glad his brother didn't totally hate him, glad that Canada could still look at his face without being repulsed. America stubbornly refused to look at England when, just as the meeting was about to start, the Brit addressed him.

"I see you've come to your senses and rejoined your family."

Right as Germany was about to speak, Alfred felt that rebellious streak light up like a bonfire when he turned and looked England square in the eyes and spoke, "Actually India took my seat over there with my family. So this was the only available spot."

He saw green eyes light up with an angry fire, saw Canada's hurt glance, saw France's partially wounded expression. America should have felt bad, he supposed.

But he didn't.

* * *

The meeting was over soon enough, an none of his supposed family had addressed him since his little outburst of rebellion. Canada kept sending him concerned glances and, despite that Alfred himself had basically said they weren't his family anymore, the American felt horrible. As soon as the meeting was dismissed and the nations began to leave, Alfred grabbed his brothers arm and pulled him off to the side. France glanced in their direction before following England, who was still angry and had stomped out of the room without giving the brothers a passing look.

"Look..." Alfred glanced off to the side before looking Matthew in the eyes, "Canada..."

"What do you want, _America_?" The Canadian put emphasis on using his brothers country name, "Apparently, we're not family anymore so-"

"Mattie, please listen." The use of that old nickname that Alfred realized he had quit using awhile back made his northern brother pause, "I only said that because England was being a jackass. We're still brothers, we always will be!"

Despite being given reassurance, Canada still looked at him uncertainly, "Really? Because the way you've been avoiding me suggests otherwise, Al."

Al. That was good, that meant Matthew wasn't too mad at him. Despite the two being somewhat distant, the Canadian man was still his brother and Alfred would hate to lose someone else.

"Nah, you know how distracted I get!" Alfred smiled widely, "Besides! We still have to have the annual hockey match after Christmas where I'll kick your butt!"

Matthew's lips twitched into a small smile, "Yeah, sure. More like I'll beat you just like every other year."

Right as America was about to respond he heard Denmark call out behind him, "America? Are coming?"

Biting his lips, Alfred glanced at his brother, who just shook his head and nodded. Smiling, he patted his brother on the back before rushing off to join the Nordics. Immediately he was given a noogie by Denmark for taking to long, though the Danish man was immediately shoved off by the American nation. Finland laughed slightly while Norway seemed pleased Alfred shoved Denmark. Sweden simply shook his head while Iceland just seemed exasperated with his family. The six quickly exited the building and piled into Alfred's car, ready for the holiday fun that was to come.

* * *

_**A/N: Sorry this has taken so long guys my schedule is killing me and I keep making new fics oh my god when I'm dead in a few weeks because of stress you're all invited to my funeral.**_

_**Question of the Chapter: Do you guys have any suggestions as to where this fic is/should be going?**_

_**TRANSLATIONS:**_

_**NONE!**_


	16. Baking of the Cookies

**_Chapter 16: Baking of the Cookies_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

**_NOTE: I got a PM saying they were confused about the Nordic's human names so here they re really quick!_**

**_Sweden - Berwald_**

**_Finland - Tino_**

**_Denmark - Mathias_**

**_Iceland - Emil_**

**_Norway - Lukas_**

* * *

As soon as the nations arrived at Alfred's house, they were all briefed about what was to come. Holiday decorating. Finland immediately perked up even more, if that was possible, and Norway and Denmark began glaring at each other as they had a decorating competition each year that got pretty intense. Iceland always sided with Norway while Sweden usually sided with Denmark. Norway's team always won, much to the displeasure of Denmark and Sweden. Meanwhile, Finland was just being freaking Santa Clause and spreading joy, candy canes, and reindeer farts for everyone to enjoy. Of course, Alfred knew none of this and had no idea what he was getting into.

So when America began to open up the boxes upon boxes full of Christmas decorations, he was very confused when four of the five Nordics attacked the decorations, grabbing what they could and fleeing. Mathias and Berwald grabbed a ton of centerpieces, wreathes, and sparkling lights and fled to one part of the house. Lukas and Emil were right behind them, armfuls of multicolored tinsel, candles, Christmas themed blankets, and other various items in their arms as they hightailed it away from where the other two Nordic ran. Alfred looked at the empty boxes is shocked disbelief, wondering how they had grabbed it all, before going to help Finland with baking Christmas tree cookies.

"Here, mix the dough like this!" Finland laughed as he watched Alfred struggle with his bowl and spoon

The kitchen was a mess, nothing like France's organized and precise cooking that never left any mess to clean up. No, cooking with Tino was a helluva lot more fun, the Finnish man not scolding Alfred for every little thing he did wrong. Occasionally flour was thrown, the two nations having a contest of who could cover who with more flower the quickest. The white, powdery substance was all over the place along with a few eggs Alfred had messed up cracking while making his batch of dough. A cup of milk set out in case the dough was to thick so they could add more in. Butter was strewn haphazardly on the floor in one spot from where Alfred had accidentally dropped it and then _fell _in the slippery substance.

Now both nations had their own bowels of homemade sugar cookie dough, though Alfred was struggling to stir the thick substance. This led Tino to take pity on the poor boy and the Finnish man showed Alfred how to stir the dough correctly. Tino laughed as Alfred somehow managed to snap the wooden spoon and traded the broken one out for a thicker metal one. Laughing, they both began to roll out the dough once it was stirred and began to cut out the pale dough with Christmas tree and candy cane cookie cutters.

Alfred felt better than he had in, well, years as he laughed and just enjoyed the older nations presence, "This has been really fun, _äiti_!"

Both Tino and Alfred froze as the Finnish word for mother fell past Alfred's lips, the Nordic nation looking at the American with what looked to be hope. Meanwhile, Alfred was mentally slapping himself silly, just knowing in his bones he had jacked everything up as he always did. Finland would be crept out and then he would tell the other, in turn causing the all to leave right before the holidays. Then, all of Alfred hopes of having a fun Christmas with his new friends and self proclaimed family would be dashed because he himself jacked it all up. It would be nobodies fault but his own. He would be alone again, and Alfred wasn't entirely sure he could handle the Nordics leaving after he spent so much time with them, after they had _accepted _him for who he was. They loved him for him and didn't tell the American to change anything, the love was simply unconditional. Alfred couldn't lose that. He couldn't.

Finland frowned, almost sensing his sons inner turmoil and could hold back no longer. His baby, his only child, was there in front of him and looked as though he were about to burst into tears. Pain shot through Tino at the sight of water welling in those bright blue eyes and knew the boy was immediately jumping to a false conclusion that was probably preposterous. So Finland did the thing any parent in his shoes would do. He reached out and pulled Alfred into a bone crushing hug, nearly smothering the boy who was shocked into silence. It seemed Alfred wasn't the only one with super strength, because Finland shared that freaky quality with the American for sure.

"It's okay! Shh, it's okay my _poikavauva_. You're fine, it's okay." Finland soothed the upset nation, "You said nothing wrong, child."

Tino stood there, cradling the taller nations head on his shoulder while the Finnish man patted the Americans back. Alfred wasn't grown up, he realized, not even close. Tino realized this now that even though his son looked around eighteen, he was still just a baby. Barely a child with the weight of the world on his shoulders and no one to turn to. So he didn't mind it when Alfred cried tears of relief into his shirt, wetting the blue fabric. Tino didn't even care about the shirt, it was just a piece of cloth and what was that compared to his son who was in emotional pain? Finland didn't care all that much about appearance like France and England did, he didn't care that the salty tears stained his shirt like he knew France would if anyone so much as spilled a tear of his expensive French silk shirts. Internally snorting, Finland wanted to shake his head at the idea of those two trying to raise a child. They didn't have a parental bone in their body.

"You okay now, _kultaseni_?" Finland patted the back of his child's head, feeling the American starting to pull away

"Y-yeah." The blue eyed boy stuttered out, turning away from Tino and trying in vain to wiped the tears of his face and control his runny nose

"_Lapsi_?" Finland pursed his lips, "You said nothing wrong."

"I-I..." America shook his head, "I didn't mean to."

Tino just laughed, "What's so wrong with what you said? I'm happy you think so highly of me to think of me as a parent."

Alfred smiled, "Yeah."

Finland didn't know about those dreams he made up though, Alfred knew. If any of the Nordics found out about them, they'd drop his quicker than he could apologize for being a weirdo and making things up in his mind because he was too lonely. None of his new family knew he wished they had actually raised him. None of them knew Alfred _dreamed _about them raising him.

And Alfred didn't know those dreams were real.

"Now, lets put the cookies in the oven and see what madness the others have stirred up decorating. They always have this competition, you see..."

Alfred listened to the story of how once tinsel had been set on fire by Denmark to sabotage Iceland and Norway's decorating, which had earned him a cuff to the head from Sweden. Laughing at the stories, Alfred fell back into the warmth of happiness, trying to forget that he would never really fit in with them. That he'd never really be one of the Nordics, he'd never really be a part of their family. He wished so badly that he someday could, though. That someday he would be accepted as one of them.

Little did he know they'd already accepted him hundreds of years ago and they still accepted him today.

* * *

_**A/N: I feel like I'm constantly apologizing because of Marching Band and crap, but our director wanted to start early this year. Ugh my legs are literally gonna fall off, they hurt so much from marching. Then there's 4H and yeah...I'm sorry this took so long.**_

_**Anyways more bonding (especially with Norway and Iceland and Denmark and Sweden coming up cause Finland has got this mother things DOWN man) next chapter!**_

_**Question of the Chapter: When should Alfred find out? Next chapter or not ;)**_

_**TRANSLATIONS (Thank you to quarter-blood99 for the Finnish help!):**_

_**Finnish~**_

_**Äiti = Mother**_

**_Poikavauva = Baby boy_**

_**Kultaseni = Sweetie (This was a last minute addition and wasn't checked. If it's wrong, tell me!)**_

_**Lapsi = Child**_


	17. In Which a Toy is Returned

**_Chapter 17: In Which a Toy is Returned_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

**_A/N: No I'm not dead, I promise. It's just my Freshman year of high school (grade 9 for you non Americans) and I took an AP (College level) class along with 3 college prep classes plus marching band. So...yeah. I'm swamped and It's broken my heart I haven't been able to update this yet! So here it is, hope you guys can forgive me for a 3 month hiatus!_**

* * *

_Troubled spirits on my chest_  
_ Where they laid to rest._  
_ The birds all left, my tall friend,_  
_ As your body hit the sand._

_ Million stars up in the sky_  
_ Formed a tiger's eye_  
_ That looked down on my face,_  
_ Out of time and out of place._

_ So hold on._  
_ Hold on to what we are._  
_ Hold on to your heart._

_~Your Bones, Of Monsters and Men_

* * *

Christmas morning came too quickly, especially for Alfred because it meant the Nordics would be leaving soon. The tree was grandly decorated, courtesy of Iceland and Norway, which there were multi colored candles and blankets draping every available surface, courtesy of Sweden and Denmark. Basically, it looked like Christmas had barfed all over Alfred's house. Candy canes, tinsel, wreaths, and snow globes were either hung or sat at every corner of the house. Red and green doilies were hung over every table or stand, and multiple plates of cookies and milk had been placed around the house. According to Alfred and Finland, Santa can never have _too many cookies_. That was akin to blasphemy in their eyes, so the 24th when everyone was asleep, the other Nordics went downstairs and gorged themselves on cookies until they were ready to go into a sugar coma. The following morning, after Alfred's triumphant cries at seeing the presents under the tree that Finland had put there the night before, Tino rushed into the kitchen to make breakfast.

When offered fresh biscuits and jam, Denmark nearly tossed his cookies into the nearest toilet. Literally, he had eaten so many sweets that previous night the thought of any food before Finland's famous Christmas Dinner repulsed him.

As Finland, Sweden, and Alfred finished up breakfast, the other Nordics sat in the living room and looked at the mountains of presents that sat under the colorful tree. Green, red, and white wrapping paper of all varieties shone back at them. Different shaped boxes were stacked upon one another like a game of Jinga. When the tree nations joined them in the room, Mathias saw the look of Berwald's face. It was the look of a man who had eaten far too much for the sake of his 'wife'. The Swedish man just glared at Denmark, sitting down and trying not to think of the copious amounts of food he had consumed in the last twelve hours. But, to be fair, how could Sweden deny Finland's food when his wife was giving him those damnable puppy dog eyes?

Now he knew where Alfred got it.

So there they all sat, gathered around the Christmas Tree in the living room, asking who wanted to pass out the first gift. Sweden and Tino sat together on a loveseat while Alfred sat crisscross on the floor in front of the, leaning against Sweden's leg like a child. Denmark, Norway, and Iceland had all piled up on the bigger couch, eagerly waiting to tear into the gifts. They might be fully grown nations, but Christmas could bring out the child in anyone.

"Okay!" Finland smiled widely, "Why don't you go ahead and give out your presents, _poikavauva_?"

Alfred sat there for a second, thinking Finland was addressing someone else. After all, why would Tino call him that? It wasn't until Finland nudged his shoulder and repeated himself that Alfred realized that Finland had been speaking to him and an outrageous warmth bloomed in his chest. Smiling as wide as he can remember in the past hundred years, Alfred hopped to it and gathered up all his presents to begin handing them out. Between the hand painted snow globe he had gotten for Iceland, the marble cutting board he had purchased for Finland along with a set professional kitchen utensils with marble handles, and the scarf and hat set he had totally not made for Norway, the Nordics figured Alfred couldn't out do himself with Sweden's present.

But he did. Big time.

As Sweden carefully tore into the red shiny rapping paper and green bow that decorate the small rectangular box, the rest of nations in the room watched in curiosity. Under the wrapping paper was a simple brown gift box with nothing written on it. Sweden raised a single eyebrow but said nothing as he took the top of the box. Alfred frowned when he saw Sweden frown and stare at the box with wide eyes. Alfred sighed internally, had he screwed up again? Was there some big cultural difference between them and Alfred had just severely pissed of Berwald?

"Is..." Alfred began hesitantly, "Is there something wrong?"

Sweden simply shook his head as he brought out the present. A thick, light brown pouch sat in Sweden's hand, positioned just so the Nordics could see what was probably a company name. _UJ Ramelson, Wood Carving Tools Since 1937_. Sweden carefully unfolded the pouch sideways, revealing a long row of what everyone guessed to be wood carving tools. They were beautiful things, really. Sleek pieces of metal, some sharp and dull, some short and some long. They all had smooth, wooden handles that had been varnished to shine in the light. A deep, reddish brown wood had been used that really stood out against the light brown material of the pouch.

"I figured you'd like it, I don't really know why I mean I guess I just had a sort of hunch." America began to ramble, "They're one of the best companies that make specialty tools like these, been around since 1937. I had them specialty made, requested Cherry Wood, you know? They got it from down around Michigan, cost a bit more but it was worth it. I mean, if you don't like it I can-!"

"It's gre't, Alf'ed." Sweden cut of the young nation, looking just as stoic as ever except for the slight upwards tilt in his lips that you couldn't see unless you really looked for.

Then again, that's as close to a smile as Sweden got, right?

Meanwhile, the other Nordics simply glanced at each other in a happy, excited fashion. Sweden had stopped wood carving hundreds of years ago after they lost Alfred. That's not just something someone could guess of the top of their head, you would've had to known that it used to be his number one hobby. If they hadn't believed Alfred was the young boy they lost all those years ago before...well they certainly did now. Any doubts had vanished and Finland wanted to cry and hug his son all at once. Sweden probably did too, he just didn't show it like Finland did.

America smiled nervously, not noticing the excited buzz in the room after everything was said and done. Finally, only one gift was left to give. Sweden had finished passing out his presents to everyone except Alfred. He had received a kiss from Finland for his efforts, something that totally did not make him blush thank you very much. However, he was probably the most anxious about giving this one, as were the others. Denmark had given him the old toy eagle for further proof once the Nordics had reached America's home. After that, Berwald had decided he would fix it up. The broken wing and cracked beak were now new once more and he had smoothed everything out and deepened a few lines that had grown weak over time. After a new coat of varnish, the toy looked as good as new.

However, how would Alfred react? Would he be angry at them for snooping in his things? Would he kick all of them out? Would all the progress they had made in bonding with the boy, all that effort in trying to get that child back after so many years apart...would it just go to waste? With all this in mind, the five nations held their breathe as Alfred tore into his present like an over excited child. Sat on the floor, surrounded by the remains of boxes and tape and wrapping paper, he finally got the lid of the box off. Staring, frozen, he looked at the harmless carved toy in what seemed to be a conflicting set of emotions. Confusion, anger, shock, and then happiness seemed to be the most prominent ones that flashed in his eyes.

With shaking hands, Alfred carefully retrieved the toy from the box and stared at it for a few long seconds. All of a sudden his eyes began to water as he turned and looked at the people who had raised him.

"I-You...I don't..." All of a sudden the happiness was gone and his face scrunched up, "I-I know this...I know you all I just..."

He scrambled to stand and dropped the toy, which made a light thumping noise as it his the floor. Finland frowned and began to stand, along with Sweden, but Alfred stumbled back a few steps.

"_Lapsi_, are you okay? What's wrong?" Finland asked quietly, not wanting to scare the American

"I know you!" Alfred said, grabbing his head in what seemed like pain, "I know you...not just from meeting but...before...before...before I was a nation...before I was a colony I knew-!"

He let out a soft cry of pain and fell down, causing Sweden to quickly grab him before he hit his head on the table of floor. Iceland, Norway, and Denmark, who had previously been watching in concern and worry, jumped up. Finland took his son from Sweden and carefully laid him on the couch, wondering what in the world had just happened. The Nordics huddled around the couch, watching as Alfred's face grew red and sweat broke out on his forehead.

"Does he have a fever?" Iceland furrowed his brows, "Is he sick?"

"I don't think so...he wasn't before." Finland quietly spoke as he stroked Alfred's hair, looking every bit the worried parent that he was.

"Maybe it was his memory returning?" Denmark spoke hopefully, "Maybe he had amnesia or something!"

"No." Iceland shook his head gently, "It shouldn't hurt like that should it?

Finally speaking up, Sweden motioned for them all to sit, "We'll just h've to wait it out."

* * *

_Alfred shot up in his bed, sweat covering his forehead as he shook violently. Looking around he realized that this wasn't his room. Hell, this didn't even look like his house. Throwing off the covers, he noticed something. He was smaller. Height wise he wouldn't even come up to Norway's hip when he was usually taller than the small Nordic. His hands were even tinier, like they had been when he was a child. Slipping of the bed, he noticed a white night gown type thing covered his wiry form. His feet hit the cold floor as he stood, his body on what seemed like auto pilot. He was seeing out of someone else's eyes, it seemed, as his body led him across the bedroom._

_He passed some things he, with a jolt, found quite familiar. Red coat soldiers, ones like the ones England had given him when he was nothing but a colony, laid scattered across the floor. Almost like he had been playing a game of war with them like he used to as a child. His feet guided him past them and towards the door, heart beating fast in his chest for a reason he couldn't discern. _

_"Mor!" The word passed through his lips without permission as his eyes began to tear, "Mor, snälla! __Rädda mig! __Han dödade dem! Far var är du? Snälla, dödade han dem! Han dödade dem, hjälp mig! __Snälla!"_

_As he stumbled through the halls, his words became more frantic and the tears flowed thicker. He screamed his throat raw, unable to stop as the overwhelming panic consumed him. All of a sudden, strong arms grabbed him from behind and lifted him from the ground. Struggling, he flailed his small arms and legs in an attempt to get away from his captor. Screaming even louder, though he hadn't thought that was possible, he smacked what felt like flesh hard. His captor cursed roughly and dropped him. Seeing his chance to get away, Alfred scrambled to dive behind the couch. His captor grabbed his once again, though, this time by the wrist. There was a slap, a stinging hit, and his face ached like never before._

_"Alfred! What in the bloody hell has gotten into you! Running up and down the hallways at this time of night, speaking in lounges no less!" He saw livid green eyes, long tousled blond hair, and those eyebrows a person could never forget. _

_England, in all his former glory, stood there in colonial era pajamas._

_It seemed to register to his body that England, of all people, had just slapped him. Hard. The tears ran down his face like a never ending river and England finally seemed to realize what had happened._

_"Oh, Alfred, I'm so sorry. I didn't, well, I didn't know what to do. You were being so unmanageable and I just had to get you to start acing properly!"_

_When the Englishman attempted to hug him, Alfred's body seized up and pushed him away, "No! No, you killed them!"_

_Arthur blinked, green eyes wide, "What? Belt up, now, lad! I didn't kill anybody!"_

_Well, he didn't kill anybody Alfred would know._

_"Yes you did!" The words fell unbidden out of Alfred's mouth, and even if he wanted to he couldn't stop them. He had no control over anything, he couldn't move his limbs por speak or even blink when he wanted to! It's like he was in someone else's head, watching and old memory through their eyes._

_"Come now, America." Arthur's voice grew sharper, "Be sensible."_

_America. This longs past version of England called him America, along with Alfred. So this had to be his own memory but...why couldn't he recall it?_

_"I saw you kill them! All of them! My people, Artie! You killed my people!" As he spoke, images flashed through his head._

_They were horrible, bloody images. Red coats swarming Native American villages, slaughtering every man, woman, and child mercilessly. It made him want to vomit and he was sure if he'd been in his own body the bile would already be rising in his throat._

_England's eyes darkened, "I've told you not to bring this up again. It had to be done!"_

_No it didn't! Alfred wanted to scream, but he couldn't move his mouth to get the words out._

_Sniffling, he responded instead with, "I want mama and papa."_

_"You father is right here, Alfred." Arthur knelt down to his level, and wrapped Alfred in a warm hug, "I'm right here. You've never had a mother though, I'm sorry to say. I can try to find you a maid, though, if that's what you'd like. Maybe it would do you some good to have a motherly figure around the house."_

_"No!" His words were muffled against England's shoulder, "I want my mama and papa! You took me from them!"_

_Pulling away from the hug, Arthur frowned again, "We've talked about this before, Alfred. They're probably long gone. I saved you from a life as a savage, you must understand this. You didn't belong with people like them!"_

_"I want mama and papa!" He stubbornly jerked away from the bigger nation, "I want them now!"_

_England grabbed his shoulder harshly and gave him a disapproving look, "I didn't want to have to do this but you've given me no choice!"_

_"Oblivisci eos populi tui praeteritum spatium relinquunt memoriis clausus fœdere sempiterno murum!"_

_After those words were spoken, his vision went black._

* * *

_**A/N: Ugh I have a cold and I'm dying. We had a football game last Friday and I was coughing so bad I couldn't make the march down to the stadium them when I got there I vomited like five times. Then the game was interrupted before we could even perform our halftime show because of lightning so it was all pointless basically. Sorry this has taken me so long to update, life is a buttface sometimes.**_

_**Question of the Chapter: So, what did England do? What was that he said at the end and why did Alfred feint?**_

_**TRANSLATIONS (Thank you to quarter-blood99 for the Finnish help!):**_

_**Finnish~**_

**_Poikavauva = Baby boy_**

_**Lapsi = Child**_

_**Swedish~**_

_**Mor = Mom**_

**_Mor, snälla! Rädda mig! = Mom, please! Save me!_**

**_Han dödade dem! Far var är du? Snälla, dödade han dem! Han dödade dem, hjälp mig! _****_Snälla! = He killed them! Dad where are you? Please, he killed them! He killed them, help me! Please!_**


	18. In Which a Family is Returned

**_Chapter 18: In Which a Family is Returned_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

**_A/N: Quick updates while I'm sick to make up for the 3 month-ish hiatus? OH YEAH! Also, guys, you need to check out this band. Of Monsters and Men is a band that originated from Iceland that has some pretty freakin awesome music! I'd check them out if I were you! Some of their songs really go with the chapters! I've started putting lyrics before the chapter of the song I listened to whilst writing or a song I just think fits the chapter. Please enjoy!_**

* * *

_There's an old voice in my head that's holding me back_  
_ Well tell her that I miss our little talks_  
_ Soon it will be over and buried with our past_  
_ We used to play outside when we were young_  
_ And full of life and full of love._

_Some days I don't know if I am wrong or right_  
_ Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear_

_ 'Cause though the truth may vary_  
_ This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore_

_~Little Talks, Of Monsters and Men_

* * *

Alfred's head hurt so much, like Denmark had taken the butt end of his axe and thwacked him upside the head with it. His eyes were heavy and he felt so dizzy, like he was spinning non stop and he couldn't stop. He tried to move, but he was paralyzed and couldn't even move his lips to ask for help. His consciousness faded in and out and, before he knew what was happening, he was sucked back in time once more to stare through a foreigners eyes.

A foreigner who happened to be him.

* * *

_He was younger than before, he realized as he ran through the woods looking for someone. Instead of being five or six as he was in the last memory with England, he was three. His small feet founded on the ground, as he yelled out words so foreign and painful that they drug up old forgotten memories he didn't even remember having. Was this some delusion he was having? Was he actually, truly, clinically insane? He could reach no other conclusion as the scene played out before him as he tried to fit together the pieces. He didn't remember that incident with England, just as he didn't remember those dreams of the Nordics and whatever the hell this was._

_He was snapped back into reality when the small feet stopped moving. Words fell out of his mouth so ancient that he knew only select people in his country still spoke the language. He could roughly translate it as him calling for a woman. His caretaker or, it was impossible to think of but, his mother? The first nation he could remember taking care of him was England but he was already pretty old for colony standards by the time Engalnd reached him. Five or six appearance wise which meant there would've been two or three hundred years before he grew to look that way. What happened before them and why couldn't he recall it? He thought and thought until he gave himself a headache before, all of a sudden, the trees swayed and a woman walked through the brush._

_He wanted to cry when he saw her, really, because it reminded him of that dream his younger self had in the previous memory and it was too much to take. Her long, black hair fell down to her waist and had various braids missed in it. She wore traditional Native American clothing consisting of a long deer skin dress that had fringe hanging of the bottom and sleeves. She had wrinkles around her mouth and eyes, showing both her age and the fact that she was a relatively happy person just like he was. She knelt down beside him and hugged him close, his small body pressed against hers as she gave him love only a mother could produce. She whispered something in his ear, something like goodbye, and then she was gone. _

_Nothing remained but the warmth in his chest of childhood memories flooding back to him as he wondered the forest in this younger body. Peeking through the bushes, Alfred could tell his younger self was hesitant. His mother was gone and they'd both been expecting it for some time now. After all, Alfred was born to succeed her. As small hands pushed the brush apart, he saw a rather small, violet eyed man with blonde hair dressed in a light blue, long sleeved shirt and pant underset with a darker blue tunic over top. A brown belt was fastened at his waist, securing his knife in place. He wore brown ankle high boots and had a white wolf pelt thrown over his shoulders. His eyes danced with curiosity and shock as he spotted Alfred, to which the child jerked back and hid behind the foliage. _

_This man, he realized, was Tino. Finland._

_Before he could get his bearings, he was sent into another spiral of madness and memories._

* * *

_This times he was in a field, probably still around the age of three possibly bordering four. A teenaged boy stood in front of him wearing a long, grey undershirt with brown pants and a brown tunic over top. A brown belt fastened his sword to his waist and his boots were muddy and worn. He had white hair and pale skin and indigo eyes that popped against the lack of color on his body. He smiled slightly at the young boy and spoke in Icelandic with a thick accent. _

_"Nú, Alfred, halda sverðinu svona!" He drew his sword and posed, allowing Alfred to imitate it with his own dull wooden sword_

_Alfred looked up at the man with wide eyes and spoke, "Eins og þetta, bróðir?"_

_The pale man chuckled lightly and smiled, "Ég held að við getum átt í undrabarn á höndum okkar."_

_Alfred smiled so wide it almost hurt his face and broke his stance, dropping his fake sword in the process, to go and tackle the teen. Indigo eyes widening, the older boy quickly tossed aside his sword in a panic and managed to catch Alfred as the young boy leaped up to hug him. _

_"Já, já, ungur maður! Þú ert að gera vel, en vera varkár. Ég vil ekki að horfast í augu móður þína og föður f þú fá meiða..." The teen seemed to shiver thinking about it and Alfred laughed on the inside, feeling warm and wanted in these long ago memories. Now why couldn't he just stay with Iceland, he wondered, as he was cruelly sucked away from happiness once more._

* * *

_This time he was in what seemed to be a stone room with no windows. Candles were lit as means of seeing and Alfred saw a young man busily walking around the room, gathering things. He had pale blonde hair and striking violet eyes that stood out against peachy skin. He wore dark blue pants with a black long sleeved undershirt. He had a dark blue jacket that resembled a tunic but was open revealing the undershirt more than the others clothing. He wore a black cloak with a peculiar crescent moon pin holding it together around his neck. White fur lined the outside of the hood on the cloak, which was currently down and revealed his face. The room they were in had towering dusty bookshelves lining the walls, packed to the brim with books written in many different languages outside of the Nordic ones. Wooden tables were scattered around the place with various instruments that most likely, knowing Norway as that is surely who this was, had something to do with magic._

_The man turned around and shook his head at seeing Alfred perched on the cloth covered wooden stool like a small owl. Alfred watched him carefully, bubbling with xcitment as Norway placed the materials on the table._

_"Jeg trenger deg til å gjenta etter meg, fikk den?" Norway asked Alfred as he sprinkled some powder on the small wooden table and line up stones in some intricate circle._

_"Fikk den!" Alfred nodded eagerly_

_Internally, he wondered what was going on. Obviously he didn't have the best experiences with magic, what with England in his memory where he spoke those strange Latin words that hurt him, but this was Norway. Every fiber in Alfred's body told him he could trust Norway. So he did. Obviously it wasn't like he had a choice in this situation as, from what Alfred had gathered, these are the memories of those hundred of missing years that had gotten stolen away from him. _

_Norway began speaking the spell slowly, "Summone animal quaeso ut mihi accipiatis amicus socius."_

_Alfred stumbled over the words, "S-Summone animal qu-quaeso ut-t mihi accipiatis amicus s-socius...?"_

_"Nesten. Holder hendene over innkallingen sirkelen og prøve igjen, ung en." Norway gently took Alfred's hands and guided them till they were hovering over the circle of stones, "Nå."_

_Swallowing nervously, Alfred held his hands over the circle as he shakily spoke, "S-__Summone animal quaeso ut mihi accipiatis amicus socius."_

_There was a flash and a burst of sound as both Alfred and Norway ducked under the table. Norway slowly stood again, looking at the circle wearily. Nothing was there. Sighing, Alfred watched as Norway knelt and lifting him off the ground. He sat the child back on the stool and looked him in the eyes. _

_"Listen little brother, you have to speak clearly for this to work. Try again._

_"__Lytt lillebror, må du snakke tydelig for at dette skal fungere. Prøv igjen." Norway gave him a supportive pat on the back and nodded at the circle of stones once more._

_Alfred stared at the circle of stones and swallowed thickly before speaking as clearly as possible, "__Summone animal quaeso ut mihi accipiatis amicus socius."_

_There was a flash of soft light and they both stared at the small figure that appeared in the circle. The young bald eagle unfurled it's wings, turned towards Norway with predatory eyes and cawed angrily before taking flight. It gently soared around Alfred a few times, the young child watching in fascination, before it gently settled on his shoulder and nipped at his ear. Alfred could feel his smile split his face in two as he practically launched himself of his stool, knocking it over in the process, to hug Norway. The older nation caught him and hugged him gently, smiling softly as he held his younger brother. The whole time the eagle flapped around them, making angry chirps trying to get the attention back on him._

_Alfred's mind racing a mile a minute as he watched this scene unfold with great fascination. He had felt magic, just for a moment as he spoke those words, rush through his veins like lightning. Did that mean he was like Norway, England, and Romania? That he had an affinity for magic? Alfred had no idea but when he woke up, if this all turned out to be true, he'd have to have a chat with Norway about it. You know, after he gets done crying. _

_Internally frowning, he felt Norway's arms leave him as he was once again pulled away from one of the few places he'd felt pure joy._

* * *

_He sat at the table this time, across from the spiky haired male he knew to be Denmark. Bright blonde hair and shining blue eyes fit his bright smile. He wore deep burgundy pants and his long sleeved undershirt matched. His tunic was red and his boots and belt were the same deep spice brown color. Denmark was splitting open what looked to be a small and round, flat wheat roll. He took the jam he had in a dish beside him and spread it evenly before setting it on Alfred's plate. Pouring Alfred a glass of milk, he passed that over as well before preparing his own meal. _

_"Mens alle andre er på jagt, det er mit job at tage sig af dig, lille nevø! Jeg skal gøre et godt job eller Sve vil sparke min røv! Vent, nej, jeg mener røv!" Denamrk laughed nervously, "Må ikke fortælle nogen, jeg sagde det!"_

_Alfred giggled, he knew his uncle would be in big trouble if Finland or Sweden heard him cursing. Picking up the roll, he took a large bite, some jam spilling out onto his plate. Alfred tilted his head and scooped up the sticky jam in his hands. Smiling deviously, he tossed his hand back and then forwards, releasing the breakfast spread at his uncle. With a splat, the jam hit Denmark straight in the eye. He let out an unmanly yelp and dropped his glass of milk, jumping up and falling backwards. He landed on the wooden nightstand, crushing the thing to splinters and knocking a few drawings of Iceland's off, bending the fragile paper as he landed on it. Stumbling up he made his way over to the basin where they kept the water. Trying to get the jam out of his eye, he threw his hand in the glass bowel, causing it to teeter before doing a few flips and falling to the floor._

_"Helvede!" He spat out viciously before grabbing the nearest cloth to remove the substance causing his eye to sting._

_However when he regained his vision he realized just what cloth he'd used. One of the blankets Finland had made for Sweden's upcoming birthday, the intricate gold and blue cloth that spun into beautiful patterns was now stained with the bright apricot jam. __Denmark surveyed the damage around him and sighed. Alfred merely looked at the disaster in front of him, wondering how a tiny little action had caused...well...this mess._

_Denmark sighed, "Du får spanden og gå få noget vand. Vi har brug for at få denne plet ud først, så vi kan arbejde på at rydde op i dette rod. Gud, hvor skal vi finde en anden basin?"_

_Right as Alfred was about to scurry off and get the bucket to fetch some water, Denmark's voice stopped him._

_"__Også ... aldrig hørt dig mig sige helvede." Denmark looked him dead in the eyes_

_Alfred merely giggled, "Sikker."_

_As he ran out the door, the land was pulled from under his feet as he was taken away from the fun and happiness he grew to love every single damn time._

* * *

_When he awoke he was in a bed once more. Just like in that frightening memory of him and England, he shot up from bed screaming an crying. His heart beat like a kick drum in his chest as he kicked off the wool covers. He hit the cold wooden floor and Alfred noticed that, instead of those dumb frilly dresses England had dressed him in, he wore a simple wool tunic and pant set designed to keep him warm in the cold night. The room was made mostly of wood, both the flooring and the walls, and various toy made of wood littered the floor. Most likely made by Sweden, some were painted and some were not but each showed the love and care of a true artist. His bed held various sewn wool blankets, no doubt made by Finland. He stood, shaking out of fright, for a moment before he bolted for the door screaming. _

_"Far! Far! Mor, Far! Mor!" He screamed as he made his way into the hallway, tears beginning to run down his face_

_All of a sudden, he ran into what felt like a brick wall. Looking up from where he was knocked over, he saw Sweden standing over him with worry on his face. It was one of the rare times Alfred had ever seen the man without his stoic expression and as the tall man picked him up and held him close, he felt safe for once in his life._

_"Barn, vad är fel? Mår du bra? Är du skadad?" The rapid fire questions left Sweden's mouth as he held Alfred at arms length, checking for any possible injury_

_Alfred sniffled, "Jag hade en dålig dröm, pappa!" _

_Sweden shushed him, hugging him once more gently, rocking him back and forth as Berwald carried Alfred back into his room. Making ground quickly, Sweden gently pushed open the door and walked to Alfred's bed. He set the young child down gently straightened up the covers before tucking his son in tightly. With a quick kiss to the forehead, Sweden proposed a question that wasn't uncommon. _

_"Vill du ha en godnattsaga?"_

_At Alfred's enthusiastic smile and nod, Sweden shook his head and chuckled a little before starting the story called The Three Dogs, "En gång på en tid fanns en kung som gick in i världen och förde tillbaka en vacker drottning. Efter att de hade varit gifta ett tag, hade de en liten dotter. Sedan blev det stor glädje i staden och i hela landet, för folket ville deras kung allt som var bra, eftersom han var snäll och bara..."_

_Alfred was lulled asleep to the sound of his fathers voice, his dreams happy and sweet from then on out for he knew he was safe in the hands of his family and that no matter what nightmare he went through, they would be there for him. _

* * *

Thousands more memories flashed across his eyes before they opened. Bleary at first, he took a shaky breath and look at the ceiling over him. The familiar sight of his white ceiling met him and a rush of relief passed through him so potent that he felt he could turn into a boneless pile of jelly at the happiness of being in his own home and in his own, well current, body once more. He heard five pairs of feet jump up at the sound of his breath, and all of a sudden five faces entered his vision. Sweden, his father. Finland, his mother. Denmark, his uncle. Norway and Iceland, his brothers. They stood above him, all looking worried except for Sweden, who seemed to master the stoic but worried look well.

Alfred tried to crack a smile, "Did I miss all of Christmas?"

Finland nearly burst into tears, "You had us so worried! We thought you weren't going to wake up there for awhile, I mean you passed out a few hours ago and we've just sat here waiting for you to wake up. Was it the stress or excitement of Christmas and the oncoming New Year, or have you developed any health problems since-?"

He forcefully cut himself off, expression pained as he chocked back the words. Since what? Alfred knew what he was talking about. Since you left. Since we thought you were dead. Since England stole you away from us. Since you lost your family. Alfred knew then that they hadn't just been dreams, they'd all been real, and in that moment he felt happier than he'd ever been in his short existence.

Eyes tearing, Alfred through his arms around Finland,_ "Jag_ _har saknat dig, mamma_!"

Finland's arms tightened around him, "You...? You remember u-us?"

Alfred nodded violently into his shoulder, tears straining his mothers shirt, "I missed all of you so much I just-!"

Finland hugged him tighter as the American choked on his words, "Oh my baby boy..._poikavauva_, my _lapsi _we thought you were de-gone. We thought you were gone, I cannot bare the thought of you dead my sweet child..."

He felt another pair of strong arms wrap around him and knew it was Sweden. The mother and father hugged their son, even Sweden was nearly in tears as he held onto the boy he'd raised with so much love and care for two hundred years. The boy he'd thought dead for so many more years and he thought of all the pain and heartache but...right now it didn't matter because their family was whole. They had their Alfred back and that was all that mattered.

After some while, Alfred was released from his parents only to be wrapped in a hug by his uncle. Denmark wrapped his arms around him and gave him a quick squeeze before dropping him. His smile was so wide as he reached down and ruffled Alfred's hair, something the American recalled he did quite frequently when Alfred was a child.

Denmark smiled and Alfred saw tears in his eyes, "We've got a lotta time to make up for, _nevø_."

Alfred smiled in a watery manner before he was tackled in a hug by Iceland, "I missed you. I guess I'm not the youngest once more and I've never been happier about that."

"I missed you too." Alfred whispered, his lips shaking as he was released from Iceland and turned to Norway.

Norway simply smiled a broad smile, something very out of place for him, and spoke, "I have my little prodigy back."

Alfred tackled him in a hug exactly like he did all those years ago. Norway caught him once more and hugged him tightly. Eventually Iceland joined them followed by Denmark. Sweden and Finland held hands as they hugged their family, everyone in tears or as close as they could be without the salty water spilling onto their cheeks. Alfred's chest hurt, ached, but in a good way. Deep down in his bones, his very soul told him he was home. That this was his family. Somewhere he knew Native America was smiling down with the rest of the Ancients because her son was finally on the right path again.

* * *

_**A/N: WAS THAT ENOUGH FEELS FOR YOU?**_

_**Question of the Chapter: Will the Nordics find out what happened to Alfred when he talks to Norway? What about Alfred having magic?**_

_**TRANSLATIONS (Thank you to quarter-blood99 for the Finnish help!):**_

_**Icelandic~**_

_**Nú, Alfred, halda sverðinu svona! = Now, Alfred, hold it like this!**_

_**Eins og þetta, bróðir? = Like this, brother?**_

_**Ég held að við getum átt í undrabarn á höndum okkar. = I think we may have a prodigy on our hands.**_

_**Já, já, ungur maður! Þú ert að gera vel, en vera varkár. Ég vil ekki að horfast í augu móður þína og föður ef þú fá meiða... = Yes, yes, young one! You're doing well, but be careful. I don't want to face your mother and father if you get hurt...**_

_**Norwegian~**_

_**Jeg trenger deg til å gjenta etter meg, fikk den? = I need you to repeat after me, got it?**_

_**Fikk den! = Got it!**_

**_Nesten. Holder hendene over innkallingen sirkelen og prøve igjen, ung en. = Almost. Hold your hands over the circle and try again, young one._**

**_N_****_å, som vi har praktisert. = Now, like we've practiced._**

_**Lytt lillebror, må du snakke tydelig for at dette skal fungere. Prøv igjen. = Listen little brother, you have to speak clearly for this to work. Try again.**_

_**Finnish~**_

**_Poikavauva = Baby boy_**

_**Lapsi = Child**_

_**Jag har saknat dig, mamma! = I missed you, mom!**_

_**Swedish~**_

_**Mor = Mom**_

**_Far = Dad_**

**_Barn, vad är fel? Mår du bra? Är du skadad? = Son, what's is wrong? Are you injured? Are you okay?_**

**_Jag hade en dålig dröm, pappa! = I had a bad dream, daddy!_**

**_Vill du ha en godnattsaga? = Would you like a bedtime story?  
_**_**En gång på en tid fanns en kung som gick in i världen och förde tillbaka en vacker drottning. Efter att de hade varit gifta ett tag, hade de en liten dotter. Sedan blev det stor glädje i staden och i hela landet, för folket ville deras kung allt som var bra, eftersom han var snäll och bara... = Once on a time there was a king who went into the world and brought back a beautiful queen. After they had been married a while, they had a little daughter. Then there was great rejoicing in the city and throughout the country, for the people wished their king all that was good, since he was kind and just...**_

**_Da_****_nish~_**

_**Nevø = Nephew**_

_**Mens alle andre er på jagt, det er mit job at tage sig af dig, lille nevø! Jeg skal gøre et godt job eller Sve vil sparke min røv! Vent, nej, jeg mener røv! = While everyone else in gone it's my job to take care of you! Gotta get a good report or Sve will kick my ass! Wait, no, don't tell anyone I said that!**_

_**Må ikke fortælle nogen, jeg sagde det! = Don't tell anyone I said that!**_

**_Helvede__ = Hell_**

_**Du får spanden og gå få noget vand. Vi har brug for at få denne plet ud først, så vi kan arbejde på at rydde op i dette rod. Gud, hvor skal vi finde en anden basin? = You get the bucket and go get some water. We need to get this stain out first so we can work to clean up this mess. God, where do we find another basin?**_

_**Også ... aldrig hørt dig mig sige helvede.= Also...you never heard me say hell.**_

_**Sikker = Sure**_


	19. The Beginning of the End

**_Chapter 19: The Beginning of the End_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

**_A/N: Guys. There are only a few more chapters of this story and I just can't even. This'll be the first full-length Hetalia fanfic I've finished but I don't want it to end...maybe a sequel? Idk._**

* * *

_A blood brother, surrogate mother _  
_Hugging each other, crying their eyes out_

_..._

_My heart's burning bad_  
_And it's turning black_  
_But I'm learning how to be stronger_  
_And sincerely, I love you dearly_  
_Oh, but I'm clearly destined to wonder_

_~Beautiful Times, Owl City_

* * *

Alfred was pretty sure he had never been happier in his entire life. Surrounded by family during the holidays, all of them just sitting around the remainder of their days off and talking. Catching up. For Alfred there was a lot of crying, though he would deny it vehemently later if questioned. Denmark took his nephew out drinking a few more times, though it was quickly put to a stop when Finland and Sweden found out. America couldn't complain because he was really getting sick of waking up, hung over, with a ponding headache. Finland often enlisted the American's help in cooking as well, Alfred and Tino usually making a mess of the kitchen and somehow talking Sweden into cleaning it up. Berwald grumbled the entire time, but when he saw his wife and son's puppy dog eyes on full blast, he couldn't very well say no.

Sadly, the holidays were coming to and end and with it his happiness and peace. It was almost week after Christmas when the calls started coming in, his cellphone constantly blowing up. Alfred ignored every single call, if his boss needed him he always called the American's work phone not his personal phone. If something urgent had happened he'd see it on the news, anyways, and then he'd know who to call back. So it went on, Alfred preparing for New Years with his reunited family, ignoring calls, and trying to enjoy what little time left he had in this paradise.

It was December 30th when the American remembered something extremely important he couldn't believe he'd forgotten. His memory those past five days had been fuzzy at best and non existent at worst. Certain things would trigger a memory and with it would come a severe migraine that would make the American cringe in pain. When the Nordics realized this they treaded very lightly around the young nation, wanting his memories to gradually break through whatever caused his amnesia and not pummel through all his mental walls at once. They feared if this happen he may pass out and, unlike Alfred's last experience with being unconscious, he may be knocked out for a bit more than a few hours.

Alfred couldn't really help this one, though. He'd been sat at the kitchen table at seven in the morning, waiting for the house to gradually waken as he sipped his orange juice. Norway as the only other country awake, sat in the living room as he read some book Alfred never took a good look at. As he stared at the world, slumbering it the chill of winter like a hibernating bear, suddenly and eagle soared down from the sky. As it perched on a tree branch right outside Alfred's window, the American smiled as he viewed his national bird. Then, much to his never ending dismay, he felt the familiar soreness in his temples. It spread quickly, taking over his entire head as Alfred cringed in pain.

A familiar memory flashed across Alfred's eyes. It was familiar, one of the ones that had taken the forefront at first but slowly faded to the back after he initially remembered. Norway, he was the main Nordic there. Not only that, though, he was teaching Alfred _magic_. The American's eyes flew wide open, scrambling off his chair in excitement as he couldn't fathom why he had forgotten that of all things! Rushing, okay let's be honest he was full on sprinting, Alfred slip into the living room with a loud shout.

"Norway! Lukas! _Brother_!" Alfred watched in amusement as Norway's head snapped up at the last exclamation.

"Alfred. What's wrong?" The only way Alfred could tell Lukas was worried was by the slight knit in his eyebrows. Other than that, the Nordics face was a calm façade.

"I-I!" Alfred rushed to let the words fall from his mouth, "I saw an eagle outside and I remembered something about you teaching me to summon an eagle and I was wondering what exactly that meant because I don't know and I'm really-!"

"Alfred." Lukas interrupted, "Calm down."

The American took a deep breath and nodded, "I wanna know what it means!"

"I used too..." The man paused, "Teach you magic. You were very adept at it, you mastered simple spells very easily. The eagle summons, that was one of the harder ones you tried. You got the hang of it though. We were about to get into more difficult spells but..."

The sentence hung in the air. _But _you up and disappeared. _But _we had no idea where the hell you went. _But _you had amnesia and wondered around until England found you and you became his colony. His little brother, his son. _But _you weren't ours anymore.

Alfred twitched, uncomfortable as he thought about his former ruling nation. The British Empire hadn't been cruel from what he could remember and Arthur had always been kind...

_"Come now, America!" A sharp voice snapped, "Be sensible!"_

Blinking, Alfred teetered back a bit. Norway's eyes snapped to Alfred's pale face and his worry intensified.

"Alfred, what's wrong? Are you remembering something? Alfred?" The Norwegian's voice grew distant, "You look feint. Alfred! Little brother!"

_"Your father is right here, Alfred."_

_"I didn't want to do this but you've given me no choice!"_

_"Oblivisci eos populi tui praeteritum spatium relinquunt memoriis clausus fœdere sempiterno murum!"_

"Little brother!" Norway's vice called out

Alfred blinked, his vision clearing as his chest felt hollow. He didn't want to believe it, that that...whatever _that _was...actually happened. Arthur wouldn't, _couldn't_, do something like that to him! The man he looked up to as an older brother wouldn't betray his trust, wouldn't hurt him like he did. Wouldn't tear away the only memories where he was happy. Wouldn't kill his native people. Wouldn't dismiss all of the above as _foolish_.

But he did.

Tears flushed into Alfred's eyes unbidden as Norway watched with barely masked wide eyed horror. If Finland found out something Lukas said made Alfred cry...lets just say the Norwegian would be in for a world of pain. It's not like he meant to hurt the boy, he was just frustrated. He wanted to know _why_. _Why _did Alfred leave them? _Why _did it all come to this? Finding him years later with amnesia, with so many years separating the American and his family.

"Listen...Alfred..." Norway coughed, unsure of how to proceed, "I know you didn't mean to leave-"

"I really didn't." Alfred's voice made Norway pause, the pure pain and sadness and disappointment in it almost made his heart burst, "I couldn't...I-I don't know why he..."

As the tears spilled over, Norway registered something with narrowed eyes, "He? What happened? Who is he? Alfred, little brother, please let us help."

The American scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to push away the tears, "E-England. H-he took away...he..."

"He..." Norway trailed off, wrapping an arm around his younger brother, "What did he do, _lillebror_?"

"He said some spell and...I forgot..." Alfred buried his head in Norway's shoulder as Lukas boiled with anger, "I didn't mean to I just couldn't stop him and I..."

"Shh." Lukas sighed, messing up his hair as he hugged his younger brother, "It's not your fault. You couldn't do anything."

Now he knew why Alfred left them. Or, more accurately, Alfred was ripped from them. Norway was unsure of a lot of things, but he was certain of one simple fact.

England was about to have every ounce of magic in Norway's land and body thrown towards him in a wrath that would make hell look fucking _pleasant_.

* * *

_**A/N: So yeah. Engalnd's gonna die.**_

_**Question of the Chapter: What happens next?**_

_**TRANSLATIONS (Thank you to quarter-blood99 for the Finnish help!):**_

_**NORWEGIAN~**_

_**"Lillebror" = "Little brother"**_


	20. My Youth's Funeral

**_Chapter 20: My Youth's Funeral _**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

**_A/N: Sorry this has taken so long! I've been in and out of the hospital because of my heart and things have been crazy. Extra long chapter to make up for it I hope!_**

* * *

_I gotta be honest, I don't know if I could take it_  
_ Everybody's talking, but what's anybody saying?_  
_ Mama said if I really want to, then I can change, yeah yeah_

_ R.I.P. to my youth_  
_ If you really listen, then this is to you_  
_ Mama, there is only so much I can do_  
_ Tough for you to witness it but it was for me too_

_~R.I.P. 2 My Youth, The Neighbourhood_

* * *

"He did _what_?"

Finland's voice was deathly quiet, eyes narrowed and lips drawn back in a snarl. Sweden sat, silently stewing in his anger, while Denmark gripped his ax and the air around Iceland seemed to grow cold. Norway stood in front on them all, expression grim as he explained the situation. He knew the question had weighed on all their minds; if Alfred was America then why, when he grew up and gained independence, did he not return to them? Surely he would at least acknowledge them? He had always been friendly but they had raised him, surely he held more than friendly but distant affection for them all? Or did he no longer want them, had they been replace by France and England and Canada? Now they knew, and while it settled those questions, it raised new ones.

"What do we do?" Denmark furrowed his brows, "We can't exactly risk an international incident with England, but..."

"I don't care." Finland snapped, eyes hard and cold, "I don't care if I cause an incident, I don't care if I cause a hundred for that matter! That man, that-that retched nation took Alfred and-and he stole everything from him!"

"T'no." Berwald laid a careful hand on the smaller man's shoulder, "C'lm d'wn. We'll f'gure it o't, 'kay?"

Pursing his lips, the anger seemed to drain out of the pale man as he plopped down on the couch, covering his eyes with a hand, "We'd better."

"There's a meeting in a week." Emil spoke up, voice cold, "We need to know what to say then, because I do not know if I can sit in a room with England without mentioning this all."

"We'll get it together by then." Mathias nodded firmly, gripping his ax, "Until then where's the little one?"

"Sleeping." Lukas waved vaguely to the stair that led to the upstairs, "He was tired, I suspect breaking the spell on his mind would cause those side effects."

"Just let him rest. It's been a long..." Finland sighed

"Century?" Denmark raised an eyebrow.

"Century."

* * *

Alfred was nervous as hell as he walked into the meeting. Amsterdam was bustling around them, the world still sedated from post-Christmas bliss, as the countries slowly filed their way into the meeting hall. It was the fourth of January, and Alfred knew for a fact that not even Germany liked the first meeting of the year. Even less than usual got done, and no one really cared to try and actually do work. It was even worse for Alfred today because, in place of his usual first of the year laziness, he was antsy and scared out of his mind. This would be his first time confronting his supposed 'older brother' since he regained his memories of his childhood, and Alfred didn't know what he'd say to the man. He didn't hate Arthur, of course, but he couldn't trust the Englishman.

Sitting the meeting was about as pleasant as being gnawed on by a shark, and his family just kept shooting poisonous glares at France and England. It was making quite a few nations around them nervous, including France and England themselves. Everyone knew the Nordics as generally peaceful countries in their modernized days, despite being powerhouses back in the day. It was known that, despite how peaceful they seemed, they were dangerous. Finland made _Russia _shudder at times, and if that didn't send a message to the world nobody knew what would.

As the meeting drew to an end, nations quickly filed out half-asleep and ready to go home. They had decided a long time ago to make this a one day meeting because, despite being mandatory due to their bosses, nobody cared to drag it out. As the Nordics sat there, watching Alfred's old family converse, the American could feel their stares burning into him. Matt's especially, as though the Canadian knew something about Alfred was off. He always knew when something was up, and America appreciated it despite whatever hard feelings they might have. Despite whatever happens with England and, by extension, France.

"Is there something wrong, America?" The accented voice spoke from over the table, "You know you can-"

"You don't get to talk to him!"

Norway was the one who had snapped at the Brit, causing his mouth to close and his eyebrows to shoot up to his hairline. France paused too, looking up from his papers in shock at the violent manner in which the words were spoken. Matthew frowned, eyebrows drawing together and sadness in his eyes as he looked at Alfred, who was just staring at the table and trying to block out the world.

"I don't thing that you can make that decision for him." England bristled like an angry cat, "I'm fair certain America can decide for himself who he wishes to spend his time talking with!"

Denmark snorted, "Obviously, that's why he's been with us."

"America?" Hurt was constant in green eyes as Arthur looked at the young man he'd helped raise, "Do you need to speak-?"

"You know, England, I do think you have done enough speaking for multiple lifetimes." Finland's voice was as cold as ice and sharp as a blade, violet eyes narrowing as he glowered at the Brit with barely concealed hostility, "Especially after what you did."

"Now hold on." France spoke up, eyes mere slits, "I know _Angleterre_ isn't always the most agreeable person-!"

"Thanks." Arthur muttered, dropping his head into his hands as Alfred's heart sank.

"_But_." Francis put emphasis on the word, "I strong believe he does not deserve this treatment!"

"Trust me." Iceland wrinkled his nose in disgust, "He does."

"Guys-!" Canada attempted to intercept the argument, "Can we just sit down and talk-?"

"No." Sweden spoke for the first time, face stoic as ever and blue eyes as cold as Tino's violet ones, "T'lking isn't 'n 'ption."

Alfred looked up and saw Arthur's shoulders barely shaking, and he wondered for a brief and foolish moment if the man was crying. Wincing internally, he listened to the insults his two families hurled at each other as Canada desperately tried to diffuse the situation. He felt guilt, and some anger as well. Arthur had never been cruel to him, not once, and up until the Revolutionary War they'd been very happy as brothers. His people had done awful things to Alfred's own, yes, but Arthur hadn't personally decided that. It was his king, it was always the king that decided what was to be done. Arthur had no control back then, whether he agreed or not.

He could remember times growing up with the Empire easily, they fit like a glove and he didn't have to dig for them as he did for the beloved memories of his earliest caretakers. They came unbidden into his mind, swirling around and just about giving him a headache.

* * *

_"Alfred! Come in here! I've made something for you!"_

_Running into the kitchen as fast as possible, Alfred quickly propelled himself up onto a chair and perched at the table, young eyes eagerly looking at the plate that Arthur was carrying. Alfred was pretty sure this was just after he had been taken from the Nordics, the memory a bit fuzzy due to the spell but still there, but he could see the look on the Englishman's face was hopeful. Setting the plate in front of the boy, he stood back and allowed Alfred to look at the charred remains on it?_

_"Whas it?"_

_"What is it, love. Not whas it." England gently corrected the boys speech, "And it's a muffin. I have a few more if you l-like that one, that is."_

_Tilting his head to the side, Alfred picked up the fork and immediately dug in, a large smile on his face, "This great, Engwand!"_

_Despite not being proper English, the happiness that shined on Arthur's face so bright it was nearly blinding, "Well. I guess, I uhm, I'll just go get the others, then!"_

* * *

_He could hear the door creak open from where he was in the sitting room. Dropping the toy redcoats he'd been playing with, Alfred was on his feet before Arthur could even call out and ask if he was awake. This was a later memory, Alfred was older but not by much. He was maybe eight, not yet old enough to be left alone for any long period of time. Still, England was forced to leave periodically and he usually got a very enthusiastic and warm welcoming when he returned home._

_"Arthur! Arthur!"_

_"Well." A chuckle came from the entry hall, "I guess I don't have to ask if you're awake or not!"_

_Alfred damn near launched himself at the Brit, Arthur opening his arms and easily picking up the boy he thought of as a little brother, swinging him around a bit and making Alfred giggle. _

_"How have you been, hmm?" Arthur asked as he kicked off his boots, careful not to drop the young colony he was carrying, "Are your studies going well?"_

_"Yes, sir!" Alfred smile a wide, tooth smile, "Mrs. Tudor Lady said I'm doing very well in arithmetic and reading!"_

_"Well that's good!"_

_"Yeah!" Alfred squirmed and made Arthur sit him down before grabbing his older brothers hand and dragging him to the kitchen, "Make more muffins! Please!"_

_Arthur smiled brightly, "Of course!"_

_As Alfred sat at the table, playing with his figurines once more, he swore he could hear Arthur muttering about frogs._

* * *

_"What's this word?"_

_"Reconcilement."_

_"So...never can true r-reconcilement grow where w-wounds of deadly hate have pier-pierced so deep..."_

_"Yes, good!"_

_"Okay...what's that word?"_

_"Illumine."_

_"What is dark with-within me, ill-illum-illumine?"_

_"Try and sound it out slowly."_

_"Ill-illum-illumin-illumine? Illumine? Illumine!"_

_"Good job, Alfred!"_

_"So, how's that one sound?"_

_"How does, not how's. And that is pronounced solicit."_

_"Do I soli-solicit t-thee?"_

_"Yes good!"_

_"How do you say that word?"_

_"No, no! You don't need to know that word! Here, let's go to a different stanza, shall we?"_

* * *

_"Are you sure I can't keep him?" Alfred stared up at England with pleading eyes, "He'll be good!"_

_Arthur looked down at him with a small frown, but Alfred could tell his stubbornness was breaking down in the face of puppy eyes, "He'll make a mess all over the house!"_

_"No he won't!" Alfred held the bunny closer to him, running his hands over the soft brown speckled fur, "I'll train him!"_

_"Now, pray tell, how are you possibly going to train him?" England furrowed his eyebrows, "He's a wild animal!"_

_"He's my pet, and his name is Flower!" Alfred pouted, "And I'll just tell him to go outside when he needs to do his...you know...business."_

_Arthur looked caught between laughing and crying, "Alfred, please...just, put him back where you found him."_

_"No!" Alfred willed tears to well in his eyes, "Please! Please, England! Please, Arthur! Please!"_

_At the tears, Arthur's resolve broke, "Shouldn't he have a more...traditional name if it's a boy?"_

_Alfred beamed up at the green eyed man, "I think Flower suits him just fine!"_

_"Very well. It's your rabbit."_

_"Can you hold him on the way back?" Alfred blinked up at him, "I wanna pick some flowers. The ones I got for you last week are dying in the vase."_

_"Fine, I suppose so." Arthur carefully cradled the rabbit in his arms, "Just don't slow down too much."_

_Smile growing wider, Alfred nodded vigorously, "I won't! Promise!"_

_It was silent for a moment except for Alfred's humming, until..._

_"Alfred! This rabbit is female, not male!"_

_"We'll call it George, then!"_

_"George? Why in the-?"_

_"You always say George is a good name!"_

_"Not for a female!"_

* * *

_Alfred sat on the couch, holding the teacup in his hand. Huffing out a puff of air he glanced over at Arthur. The man was doing what he pretty much always did, nothing interesting and reading one of those huge books he had in the library, except something caught Alfred's eye this time. Arthur held his teacup a distinct way, his pinky up and taking light sips from it as he read. Frowning, Alfred tilted his head and imitated the old nation, even going so far as to sit up straight. He saw that Arthur had one leg crossed over the other and, though a bit awkward as he was still a child which meant he was short, he managed it. _

_Smiling, Alfred nodded and then realized. He needed a book if he wanted to sit like Arthur! Grabbing the one from the table beside the loveseat, he opened to a random page and sat it on his lap before picking up the teacup once more. Who said he didn't have this nation thing down?_

_When Arthur finally looked up, he began to speak, "Alfred it's about noon, are you hungry-?"_

_He cut himself off when he saw the colony sat like that with the teacup and everything, looking the spitting image of himself. He couldn't help the snort of laughter that came out, nor the chuckles that followed afterwards. To think, the same boy who played daily in mud and ruined all his clothes and was the most uncouth thing to ever exist could...well, he could imitate Arthur pretty damn well._

_Alfred grinned up at him, "I'm you!"_

_Barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes, Arthur shook his head, "Stop that now, it's time to eat!"_

_"Muffins?"_

_"Muffins."_

_"Yes! Muffins!"_

* * *

_"It's really simple, Alfred, just move the bow across the strings!"_

_"I don't wanna do this!"_

_He was maybe twelve or thirteen, holding a violin in his hands and resting it on his shoulder as Arthur tried to teach him in vain to play. _

_"It's important! What would people say if the child I raised couldn't play an instrument?" Arthur raised his eyebrows, "Just try it, please?"_

_Alfred sighed, moving the bow back and forth across the strings of the instrument. A loud screeching noise emitted from the instrument, filling up the room with the eardrum shattering noises. Both Alfred and Arthur cringed, Alfred sitting the violin and bow down on the table and refusing to pick it up as he crossed his arms over his chest._

_"I don't think I'm any good."_

_"Practice makes perfect." Arthur picked the instrument up, trying to coax Alfred into playing it once more, "Just another try."_

_"Fine."_

_Sulkily, Alfred practiced the instrument in a lackluster manner, obviously hating what he was doing. It ate at Arthur, he hated making the boy do things he didn't like but sometimes it was necessary. He needed vegetables, he needed to clean his room, he needed to keep up on his studies, he needed to not eat solely sweets. Did he really need to know how to play violin? Arthur himself never learned an instrument as a child and he turned out fine. Pursing his lips, Arthur decided everyone else could fuck themselves and took the violin from Alfred's hands. _

_"What would you like to do besides this?"_

_Alfred's face lit up, "Can we go play in the mud?"_

_"Both...of us?" Arthur seemed not so enthusiastic until Alfred pulled out the puppy dog eyes, "Very well. Let's go find a mud puddle, shall we?"_

* * *

The memories were good ones almost always until the final years of him being a colony came about. Arthur was never really cruel, never mean, and he had always tried. It just made him wonder, why the hell did he perform a spell like that? Raising his head he saw neither of his families had noticed the way he zoned out, not even Matthew who was currently trying to restrain France. Pursing his lips, he finally decided to take control of the situation. This was his fault, it was only right that he got everything smoothed out between everyone.

"Hey!" He snapped, but no one listened, "HEY!"

Head snapped towards him, all except Arthur who remained with his head in his hands, "I would like to speak with England. Alone."

Finland and the others shot him a worried look, while France nearly stomped out of the room with Matthew trailing behind him and trying to calm him down. The Nordics finally, reluctantly, left and Alfred was left alone with his ex brother. Biting his lips, he was unsure where to start. He had so many questions. Why did you take me? Why did you cast that spell? Why did you never tell me? However, Arthur beat him to the punch.

"I suppose you're going to get in your dose of yelling as well, America?"

America. Arthur _never _called him that anymore when it was just the two of them. It was always Alfred or when he was feeling affectionate maybe love, but never America. Sighing, Alfred ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. He moved to sit down beside England, staring at his hands as he laid them in his lap. The other nation was obviously upset, and with what the Nordics had said to him Alfred honestly couldn't blame him. Deep down he still saw England as an older brother, he always would, but he had to know _why_. First, though, England was upset. Despite whatever happened, when England was really, actually upset...it was Alfred's job to cheer him up. So he tapped Arthur's shoulder and, when the man looked up from his hands, Alfred dove over and wrapped him in a bear hug. England tensed up, like he was expecting a fight, but when he realized what was going on he seemed to go boneless and sag against Alfred.

"I'm sorry, Artie." Alfred's voice was muffled by England's shoulder, "I didn't mean to upset you, and I didn't know they'd do that."

The man seemed hesitant, but he carefully hugged Alfred back, "It's...alright, I suppose, America."

The blue eyed nation frowned again. There it was once more; America. Just America. Leaning backwards, Alfred put a smile on his face and tried to lighten the mood.

"Hey, Artie?" When green eyes turned to him he continued, "D'you think next time at the meeting you could bring me some muffins?"

The Englishman bristled, "Alfred, for God's sake, why can't you buy your own damn muffins?"

The American grinned, there it was, there was his name, "Actually I meant...could you make me some?"

"What?" Arthur blinked, "_Make you some_? Muffins? You always say my cooking is toxic and refuse to eat it!"

Alfred shrugged, "I just do that to get on your nerves. I actually really like your food."

"Really?"

Nodding, America decided to drove it home and take it a bit overboard, "Even better than France's or Mattie's cooking."

Arthur sighed, rubbing his face, "Alfred, what's been going on? One day everything is fine then you just abandon us all? Your brother and Francis have been worried sick about you! I've been worried sick! Did you know you missed your brothers hockey game?"

Oh God. Alfred's eyes widened in horror and his heart clinched. That was a tradition, a very much long standing tradition between him and Matt. He knew it meant a lot to the Canadian just as it did to America. Alfred had already been walking thin ice with his brother, now he was probably never going to be forgiven. Clenching his hands in his lap, he tried to stop from shaking.

"I hadn't realized. I-I completely forgot..."

Arthur recognized his shaking and sad tone easily, "You know you can come to us with anything. I mean Francis's advice is a bit sketchy at _best_, but he tries and his heart is in the right place. He loves you. Also, don't tell him I said any of that. Damn frog is going to get an even bigger head at this rate, especially with Matthew stroking his ego to calm him down."

"He..." Alfred's throat seemed to close, "He loves me?"

Arthur's eyebrows shot up, "You're like his son, Alfred, don't be daft! Of course he loves you, just like Matthew and I do!"

Eyes widening in surprise, Alfred stared in shock as he looked anywhere but England. All this time he though he was the one they didn't like, didn't want, hated to have around. If they loved him then why...?

"You know that." Arthur narrowed his eyes at Alfred's surprise, "Right?"

"B-but why...?" The American shook his head, "Why am I always the one not invited come Christmas or Thanksgiving or any other holiday? It's always you, Francis, and Matt."

Arthur's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Alfred, we always assumed you preferred to spend Christmas alone. I always figured that was why you came around after the holiday, why you and Matt had all you after Christmas traditions. Also, we don't celebrate Thanksgiving. Any other holiday we never get together, except for birthdays that is."

Tears filled Alfred's eyes immediately, his lips trembling, "R-Really?"

Green eyes darkened with sadness, "Oh love."

The older nation pulled Alfred into a hug, Alfred's tears falling onto the shoulder of Arthur's sweater. Alfred pulled back, scrubbing at his nose and eyes to try and stem the flow of tears.

"W-Why did you do that spell when I was younger?" Alfred cut to the chase, everything else already done with.

Arthur's eyes widened, "You can remember that? Since when?"

"Just recently." Alfred shifted, "Something jogged my memory. But why did you do it in the first place?"

"Well, I didn't know what else to do. You were hysterical after the first week, and you were always speaking in tounges I couldn't understand. I...I thought it would be for the best you didn't remember the human family that raised you. The memories just seemed to hurt you."

"I had been speaking Swedish." Alfred stared at his hands, "Artie...when you found me I had already been raised for nearly two hundred years by other countries. Finland, Sweden, Iceland, Norway, Denmark...they all found me long before you did. That who I was asking for...I was scared because my family wasn't there."

Arthur seemed to stiffen, his face closing off, "Oh. Well, then, I'm...I apologize for the inconvenience it caused you, _America_. I'm sure you're very happy to have your family back."

Shaking his head, Alfred sighed, "My _other _family, Artie. I still love you guys. I just...never understood a lot of things I guess. I misunderstood a bunch of stuff."

His face seemed to soften again, "I honestly didn't know, Alfred."

"I know." The American nodded wearily, "I believe you."

The Englishman nodded, looking far more worse for wear. Alfred stood awkwardly, "I'm gonna go talk to Mattie...or more get down on my hands and knees and beg for forgiveness."

England sighed, "I...I really am sorry for any misunderstandings."

Smiling once more as he opened the door to leave, Alfred hollered back one thing, "Don't forget your muffins!"

* * *

_**A/N: Wowza. 4,100 words. This one was a doozie. **_

_**Question of the Chapter: What happens next?**_

_**TRANSLATIONS (Thank you to quarter-blood99 for the Finnish help!):**_

_**NONE.**_


	21. Coming Home

**_Chapter 21: Coming Home_**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

**_A/N: Wow this took a long time. A year almost. But things have straightened up health wise and I plan to start writing again regularly, plus my love for Hetalia has been renewed recently so expect a lot more from this and my other Hetalia stories 3_**

* * *

_Found my heart and broke it here_  
_Made friends and lost them through the years_  
_And I've not seen the roaring fields in so long, I know I've grown_  
_But I can't wait to go home_

_..._

_But these people raised me_  
_And I still can't wait to go home_

_~Castle on the Hill, Ed Sheeran_

* * *

Alfred exited the room tired and worn down emotionally, but was greeted with the welcome sight of the Nordics hovering by the door protectively. Without saying a word he walked forward into Tino's arms, the Finnish man clutching his child to his chest as the young, exhausted country slumped against one of the only true parents he had ever known. Berwald laid a hand on his son's shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into the American's back as Matthias, Lukas, and Emil watched close by as the little boy they raised was put through emotional hell. Being pulled one way then another, being lied too, having excuses thrown at you left and right. England was the master of lies and excuses, Norway thought darkly as he looked into the meeting room, so it was no wonder he'd gotten Alfred to forgive their little group.

"Kan du ta Alfred ut til bilen? Jeg har noen forretninger med England jeg foretrekker han ikke se." Lukas glanced at the other Nordics, giving a meaningful look toward the Englishman who sat alone in the conference room, "I'll be out soon."

"Of course." Denmark smiled icily as Finland looked up from Alfred and nodded his approval.

"Join us as soon as you are done." Tino smiled slightly, "Take your time, though."

"Don't worry, I will."

As his family walked away, Lukas turned and entered the room stiffly, staring at England with cold eyes. The man looked up, raising one bushy brow, and sighed slightly, "I don't have any time for nonsensical yelling, Norway, surely you have more sense than the others anyways."

Inwardly twitching at his family being insulted by the Englishman, Lukas sighed deeply, "You don't deserve forgiveness."

"I'm afraid that isn't your decision." The green eyes nation sniffed, "It's America's. We're his family, have been for the past two hundred years. I raised him, fed him, made him strong. France and I raised those boys together, and despite whatever small arguments we have we're a family, his family."

The magic wielding Norwegian laughed bitterly, "We raised him since he was a baby. Nearly four hundred years, before you came along and stole him from his home, through a memory-altering spell no less. He was never yours, he was never ours. He's America, always has been and always will be. However, we are his family. His real family. We don't belittle him for foolish reasons or insult him or throw him out when he's only looking for affection. You claim to be his father, yet when he comes looking for the love of a family from you all he comes away empty handed. He's barely a boy, still very young, and he needs those who care about him surrounding him. That's not you. I'd advise you stay away from him, despite what he has decided."

Puffing up slightly, England raised his eyebrows as Norway spoke more than he'd ever heard the normally cold nation speak, "You cannot make decisions for him. Besides, of course, we love him! He knows he can always come to us-!"

"Yet you kick him out on Christmas."

"He likes to spend the holidays alon-!"

Norway narrowed his eyes, "When he managed to get into the house you threw him out."

Sputtering momentarily, England huffed, "I do not need to explain myself to you."

"You do if you want to be allowed around America ever again." Norway's tone was clipped, eyes practically glowing with hatred, "I will not allow you to hurt him any longer. He's my brother, and I will protect him even if he's older now and doesn't really need it. He never stopped being a part of our family, and you've never really accepted him into yours. You make him upset so often, cause him so much pain it's a wonder he forgives you."

"Norway, I'd ask if you didn't get involved in family matters." England smiled in a petty manner, "You won't win this argument."

"I've grown tired of this back and forth." Lukas eyes the man dully, "You've offered no explanation for your actions and honestly you've just angered me more. Troll, ta ham, vær så snill."

England was jerked back by an unseen force, thrown backward onto the table. The former pirate clambered up quickly, hands glowing and eerie shade of blue, "You're not the only one with magic, Norway, you should know that."

"Oh, I assure you, I do. Mine is far more potent, I'm afraid, and if you so much as step one toe out of line, well..."

A shimmering green haze filled the spot behind Norway, a hand like shape reaching over the nation's shoulder and towards England. Eyes could be barely made out in the green vision, cold and dark and menacing. An oppressive force slammed down onto the Englishman as if suddenly he were Atlas forced to hold the weight of the entire world.

"Well, let us hope, for your sake, that doesn't happen."

England stood tall as Norway began to exit the conference room, calm and collected as ever as though he hadn't just summoned a magical troll to rough England up. The bushy-browed man scowled, "I can just tell America, you know."

Norway looked over his shoulder, "Go ahead, it may be painful but he needs to learn that some relationships are better off severed. He'll have my family and I with him, though, to lighten the blow."

"D'you think Mattie is mad at me?" Alfred murmured into Denmark's shoulder as he sat in the back of Finland's rental car, "I missed our hockey game."

The Dane laughed lightly, "I'm sure he'll forgive you."

Sitting up, the American shook his head, "I don't know. I haven't really spoken to him much and he's been upset with me and I've pretty much been blowing him off-"

"And he's been blowing you off for much longer." Emil quietly spoke up, the Icelandic nation pursing his lips, "I think he can forgive you this one time."

Finland sat in the front seat, fussing silently at the tone of Alfred's voice and sharing concerned glances with Berwald, the Swede not knowing what to do as they all sat there and waited for Lukas to return. Finally, after fifteen minutes of Mathias and Emil convincing him that everything would turn out fine and Tino assuring him that, yes, Canada will forgive him, Norway exited the conference building with a slight smirk playing on his normally emotionless face. Sliding into the back seat with America, Denmark, and Iceland, he shrugged off questions, saying he had some nonsensical business with the Netherlands. Nobody questioned it, and Finland sped off the where the nations were staying at a hotel. Amsterdam was bustling this time of day, car horns beeping loudly and noise attacking him from every direction, but Alfred felt his eyelids droop. Months of physical and emotional exhaustion...he gave into the deep abyss of sleep and was lulled to sleep by the sound of moving tires and Denmark's loud voice.

* * *

_"Alfred? What are you doing here so late-?" Canada's violet eyes were wide, blinking at his brother owlishly._

_Christmas of 1988, America thought as he looked around through his own eyes at Canada's house; a modest one, for sure, but a lot better than his two shithole apartments he'd owned back in the seventies. One in New York and one in his capitol, both the cheapest he could find and not exactly the lap of luxury. He'd only bought his current apartment in the nineties, and even still Matthew's was much nicer as it was in a more rural area instead of right smack in the middle of a huge city. Snapping back into focus when he heard his own voice, Alfred allowed the memory to play out before him, unable to change anything._

_"Well, it's kinda late but I figured since Francis and Arthur were coming over today I would too!" America felt his shoulders shake with laughter, "Family Christmas, ya know?"_

_"Oh, okay." Canada smiled slightly, "Come on in, then! I have your present-"_

_"I do, too!" Alfred smiled widely, holding up his bag, "Not Christmas without presents, huh?"_

_Rolling his eyes, Matthew stepped aside to allow his brother into the house. Just then, Arthur came around the corner with Francis, the two bickering over one thing or another._

_"Who was at the door?" Arthur snapped, tearing his eyes away from the Frenchman then glaring slightly, "Oh, hello, America."_

_"Artie!" Alfred's smiled grew wider, "Hey, Francis! I figured I'd swing by, Mattie mentioned something about dinner and said y'all were coming over! Figured we could have a nice Christmas, like old times!"_

_"You all, not y'all!" Arthur sniffed slightly, "Please stop butchering the Queen's English!"_

_Francis laughed airily, "Not much of a language, to begin with, mon cher!"_

_As the Englishman's face began to turn red, Matthew stepped in quickly to spared everyone the argument, "Dinner is in the kitchen! Why don't you hang your coat up, Al?"_

_Before anyone could say anything, England rolled his eyes, "He doesn't have enough manners for that! Goodness, Alfred, can't you call in advance before you just drop by? Your brother nearly dropped a pie out of the oven trying to hurry and answer the door."_

_Alfred cringed, "Sorry, Mattie."_

_"Really, it's fine." The Canadian patted his shoulder tensely, "Now, everyone, please go to the kitchen."_

_The night progressed like that, heating up even more when France brought out the wine and England's lips loosened further. A few insults here and there, hints at how rude he was, how he was an ungrateful child for leaving and that whole 'revolution business' as Arthur liked to call it. The usual for when England gets drunk, basically. When it was about time for bed, the four sat down to exchange presents. The older of the four were very much tipsy, and basically saying anything that came to mind. As Matthew handed his presents to England and France, he looked at his brother quizzically._

_"Why did you come?" Canada asked, tilting his head slightly, "You've never shown up before."_

_Alfred laughed slightly, "Well, I've never been invited before."_

_Both brothers ignored Arthur's mutter about how there was a reason for that, though Alfred did so with a much heavier heart as Canada continued, "Well, you're always-"_

_A huff interrupted them, "Always barging in places you don't belong. Just love to torment your family, hmm, Alfred?"_

_Biting the inside of his cheek, America shook his head, "You're drunk, Arthur."_

_"No, I'm tipsy!" The green eyed man snapped back, "Still, not tipsy enough to forget how you try to weasel your way back in after you left!"_

_"Canada is independent, too, if you remember." The American shared a tired look with his brother, "He's just like me."_

_"Well, I wouldn't say just like you." France murmured into his glass of wine, "More polite for starters."_

_"And he asked for independence! Nicely, if I remember!" Arthur snapped, bitter as he sipped more wine, "Not like you with your upstart war and the like."_

_"I asked too, at first." Alfred raised his eyebrows, defensive, "I thought we were over this!"_

_"You demanded!" England rolled his eyes, "You always demand. Demand to be a part of this family, demand freedom, demand everything. I don't-!"_

_"Al." Canada grabbed his arm gently, pulling him off as England continued his drunken tirade, "Maybe you should go, escape him while he's yelling nonsense."_

_"Oh...Okay." America tried to force a smile, pain wriggling in his chest, "I'll go, then. Just...give them my presents in the morning."_

_"I'll drop by tomorrow or the next day." Matthew assured when he saw his brother's dejection, "I promise."_

_Canada never showed up the day after that, or the one after that, or the one after that. Alfred never got invited over again for holidays, and he never got invited over again in general. Just when he barged in. His brother was busy, he assured himself, so were his fathers. France and England always made it a point to stay at Canada's house when the conferences were there, though, and they never stayed with Alfred. That was when he accepted it; he was the ostracized brother. No point in denying it now. He wondered if he'd ever be welcomed back into his family back then, wondered if he'd ever be allowed home. Now he knew better, now when he was dragged from his sleep and the memory he just smiled._

* * *

He woke up when Finland reached back and tapped his shoulder, "Alfred, we're at the hotel!"

Rubbing his eyes and yawning, he leaned off Denmark's shoulder, causing the Dane to laugh as Alfred ambled out of the car behind Norway. Going to their room, Denmark laughed at something making Norway glare while Iceland watched fondly, and Finland and Sweden walked hand in hand. Alfred just observed his family, sitting back and drinking in the sight of his mother and father and brothers and uncle. The made their way through the hotel, already packed with the other nations who had been at the meeting. Walking through the lobby, Alfred felt eyes on him and when he glanced up he saw none other than France and Canada staring at him in confusion and hurt.

"Hey, um, guys?" Finland and Sweden turned as the others were preoccupied with bickering, "I'm gonna go, um, sort some things out."

At this, the others looked up and Denmark, surprisingly, was the one to frown and speak out, "Don't do like you did with England. They hurt you so much, they don't deserve any forgiveness."

Alfred cringed a bit, then sighed and shrugged helplessly, "I mean...they've been my family too. I get it, they're not the best, but I'd like to repair bridges. I don't want to ostracize them like they did me."

Tino's brow furrowed, "If you think it's for the best..."

"I do."

So he charged over there, or more like walked as confidently as possible, and eventually stood in front of Francis and Matthew, both of whom looked at him like they were betrayed and hurt. Something in his gut twisted, not guilt but anger. He remembered that Christmas night vividly now, and he couldn't help but think they were hypocrites. Them and Arthur. Biting his cheek, he banished those thoughts and remembered why he was here. He'd forgive them, just like he forgave Arthur. Maybe he'd even apologize to them as he did England, say sorry for any hard feelings or times he ignored them. Tell Mattie he owed him a hockey match.

"Listen, guys-"

"How could you?" Francis burst out before Alfred could get a word in edgewise, "You let them yell at Arthur, accuse him of things and make things seem twisted! He's not come back yet, you know! We don't know where he is!"

"P-probably still at the conference room. That's where I left him." The American took a deep breath, chalking it up to France being concerned about Arthur's whereabouts, "Listen, I patched things up with him earlier-"

"And now you want to do the same with us?" Canada looked at him with sad eyes, "Alfred, I don't know."

Blinking, America took a step back, "What do you mean?"

"Everyone else already forgets me." Matthew muttered just loud enough for Alfred to hear, "I couldn't believe my own brother did as well."

"It was a mistake-!"

"A pretty big one-!"

"Like you're innocent Matt-!"

"You forgot our hockey game, it's tradition-!"

"You never visit me-!"

"I've visited you plenty-!"

"Name one time!"

The yelling between the brothers boiled over, leaving Alfred and Matthew staring at each other with wide eyes. The Canadian opened his mouth to respond confidently, the closed it soon after. He faltered in his stance, appearing to be in deep thought as he retraced all the times he'd been with his brother.

"1991." Alfred pursed his lips, "That's the last time you came over to my house. One of the few times I can count on two hands."

The Canadian cringed, "Alfred, you come over all the time."

"Maybe I don't want to be the one constantly vying for attention!" Alfred let out a shuddering breath, "Maybe I want to be wanted! Maybe I want you all to come to me for once! Maybe I want to get through one day without being directly or indirectly insulted by one of you!"

"I've never purposefully insulted you, Al!" Matthew jerked back like he'd been hit, "I get frustrated with you sometimes, but-!"

"Maybe I want to come over for Christmas." The American's voice lowered, and Canada's eyes widened, "And maybe I'd like to not get kicked out because Arthur and Francis have had too much wine. Maybe I'd like to at least get an invite. Maybe you should drop by afterward when you say you will. Maybe I could actually be a party of your family. Maybe you could tell England to stop with that 'you want to celebrate alone' bullshit."

This time he didn't end with a shout, but with a whisper. France looked at him, stunned, before glancing between the two brothers for awhile. Murmuring sorries in French, he rushed off leaving only Alfred and Matthew, who had both become rather misty eyed. The Canadian opened and closed his mouth wordlessly, at a loss of what to say to his brother who stood before him. Glancing away, America sighed.

"Believe it or not this isn't what I wanted to do." Alfred muttered, knowing his brother would hear him, "I-I forgave Arthur. I wanted to forgive you guys too. But I just...I didn't do anything wrong!"

Canada sighed, blinking away tears, "I'm sorry you feel that way. I'm sorry I've made you feel unwanted. I know France and England...I should stand up for you more. I should insist we invite you. I shouldn't give them a choice. I'm sorry. I should've come over after that Christmas. I'm sorry. God, I'm so fucking sorry..."

"Prove it?" Alfred suggested, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I forgive you and them but...this is the last time. Last shot. I can't keep getting walked over. Just...prove you're sorry. Please, I really want to believe you are."

Matthew swallowed and blinked rapidly, "I will. I'll-I'll...I think it's time to draw a line with England and France."

"Take a stand, I guess." Alfred laughed weakly, "I've gotta go. Just...remember this, okay? I don't want to lose my brother because of their fuck ups. Just...at least make an effort. That would be enough."

"I will." The Canadian nodded, "I promise, Al."

The American walked away, head held high despite the stares sent his way from other nations in the lobby. France had long since fled, and the only ones not looking at him like he had a second head were the Nordics. As he approached, Finland reached a hand out and set it gently on his shoulder. They got in the elevator. They found their room and didn't bother unloading their baggage from the rental car yet. Alfred waited for the door to shut before he dissolved into tears in his mother's arms.

Tino just held his son as everyone stood near, not hugging or weeping with him or screaming. Just being there.

Because sometimes just being there is all it takes.

* * *

_**A/N: LOTS of you were concerned about Alfred forgiving England so easy; it boils up in this chapter and overflows in the next. FCE don't get off easy, well maybe Canada but he's a wee bit of a follower as you can probably tell. Let's hope he takes a stand and makes the right choices, huh?**_

_**Question of the Chapter: What will Canada do after this? What about England and France? What will happen at the meeting the day after this?**_

_**TRANSLATIONS:**_

**NORWEGIAN~**

**"Kan du ta Alfred ut til bilen? Jeg har noen forretninger med England jeg foretrekker han ikke se." = "Can you take Alfred out to the car? I have some business with England I would prefer he not see."**

**"Troll, ta ham, vær så snill." = "Troll, take him, please."**

**FRENCH~**

**"Mon cher" = "My dear"**


End file.
